


Soulmate Bond

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst!, Except the Drarry, Fifth Year naughtiness, HEA, Harry tops once or twice, M/M, Mostly Draco Topping, Sixth Year naughtiness, mostly canon, shifting pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: When Draco is three, he learns about Soulmates, and although very rare, hopes he has one. By age five, he nearly gives up when he learns he has one after all. From then on, two boys have to figure out how to balance their destiny to be together with their feelings of hate (or near hate) for each other. It's a bit of a rough ride with a couple of fluffy moments to carry them through.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 158





	Soulmate Bond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IWillGoDownWithMyShips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillGoDownWithMyShips/gifts).



> So I wrote this and edited it, and then sent it off to Chrissie because this is ALL her idea. She sent me a seriously detailed outline in which she wanted to write a story but couldn't, and I was bored off my arse wanting to write a story but lacking in inspiration. 
> 
> After I sent it to her, I edited it again. All seemed perfect! And then my MFin' keyboard did something that made some of the latinish spells spell check and change to the closest real word it could figure. I think I got them all and turned them back, but if you see something that just doesn't make sense, it's probably a screw up and I'd appreciate it if you pointed it out, thank you so much ^_^
> 
> OH!!! And Happy New Years Eve!

“Draco, my darling, please don't write on yourself,” Narcissa insisted gently, taking the paintbrush from him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“But it's dark pink, mummy! Why _can't_ I paint myself dark pink?!” Draco protested, reaching for the brush that his mother was now keeping just out of his reach.

Narcissa set the brush aside and pulled her three year old son on her lap. “Because – my love – you might be one of the lucky ones.”

“Lucky ones???”

“Yes, I can't say much because there's a magic spell to stop me from talking about it, but there's a bit of _old_ magic that binds two special people together. These special people are called Soulmates, but they are rare. If you are lucky enough to have a Soulmate, then writing on the inner part of your left arm can cause that person trouble, because it'll show up on her arm too.”

“Why would that get her in trouble?” Draco asked, his face scrunched up in confusion.

Narcissa laughed and kissed her adorable son. “Well, what if her parents don't want her writing on herself? At your age, they probably won't believe her if she says she didn't do it. And you wouldn't want her to get in trouble, would you?”

“Oh...” Draco murmured in understanding. Then he frowned. “Wouldn't her parents just think it's her special person?”

Narcissa shook her head, rubbing her nose against Draco's as she did. “Maybe, but I don't think so. After all, a Soulmate is  _rare_ . Only one person in a thousand or two has one.”

Draco scrunched up his face again. “Then how do you know it's  _real_ ?”

Smiling, Narcissa picked up the paintbrush and wrote on the inner part of her left arm.  _Your son says hi._

Draco was squinting at the writing, clearly trying to decipher it. A moment later, he gasped in surprise as more words appeared.  _Really Narcissa? Dark Pink?? Were you out of green? And give Draco a kiss for me._

“Daddy says he loves you,” Narcissa informed her son as she gave him another kiss.

“Whoa! It's _real_!” Draco exclaimed excitedly.

Leaning her head against Draco's, Narcissa purred in contentment. “Yes, but that's all I can say, see?” Her mouth clearly moved in an attempt to form words, but no sound came out.

“Alright,” Draco said in acceptance, jumping down off her lap and grabbing his paintbrush so that he could add more to his painting.

“That's a _lovely_ erm...” Narcissa trailed off, trying to guess something that wouldn't offend her son.

“Dragon, see?!”

“Oh! I was confused since the flames seem to be... purple?”

“Uh-huh! And her eyes are gold and her wings are going to be dark pink!”

“And that's a horde of treasure?” Narcissa wondered, pointing at a blob of gold at the bottom.

“Exactly!” 

Chuckling softly, Narcissa ruffled his hair. “It's perfect, my love.”

HJP

Harry stared at his arm in confusion. Every once in a while, words appeared on his arm, but he wasn't able to read them yet. Well, now that he was in school, he might learn to read the words, but even so, he was sort of afraid that he was just seeing things. Especially since they seemed to disappear again after a couple of minutes.

The next day, Aunt Petunia was once again giving him one of his  _many_ haircuts when Uncle Vernon was due home from work in about an hour, and Dudley was playing in the yard with his friend Piers.

“Hold this comb up where I can grab it when I need it,” Petunia ordered sharply.

Harry looked up slightly to see her holding out a comb in her left hand even as the scissors in her right hand were open and ready to cut. He reached up and grabbed the comb, holding it up like she ordered. About two minutes later, something caught his eye, making him stare as words formed on his arm. Despite pausing for a moment to move which strands were being cut, his Aunt said and did nothing to indicate that she saw them.

So, gathering up all his courage, Harry asked: “Aunt Petunia? What does that say?”

“What does _what_ say?” She snapped impatiently.

“Those words... on my arm...” Harry clarified, even shaking the comb in his left hand slightly to emphasize which arm he meant.

“There are _no_ words on your arm!” She snarled.

“But...”

She growled at him softly. “If you think there are, you're imagining things!” Then she grabbed the comb and ran it through his hair a moment, muttering under her breath. “I should just get a shaver.”

Eventually, she finished. “There! Now go rinse off and get dressed before your Uncle gets home. And wear a shirt with long sleeves!”

Harry frowned since it was summer. “Why?”

“How many times have we told you? _Don't ask questions!_ Just go do what I told you!” Petunia ordered, lightly pushing Harry toward the downstairs bathroom.

From that day on, Harry always had to wear long sleeves, which seriously confused him, since if there really wasn't anything on his arm, then why did he need to cover it? Even so, all his short sleeve shirts (that were handed down from Dudley and were so big that they were almost long sleeve shirts anyway) disappeared, and when he did get new hand me downs, they were always the long sleeved shirts. His aunt claimed that the short sleeved ones were too worn out for Harry to wear.

But what could Harry do? It was just one more thing that made his life seem weird. It's not like he had any friends he could ask what normal was.

DLM

By the time Draco was five, he had made it a habit to write on his arm every single day at least once. For a long time, he wrote the same thing:  _Hello? Anyone there?_

The very first thing he had written on purpose was his name – but since he had _just_ been taught how to write the alphabet, it had looked like a scribbley mess, and he hadn't wanted to write it again until it looked good. However, the second time he'd written his name – a fairly beautiful cursive signature (he'd practiced _a lot_ ) – it disappeared before he got to the c. No matter how hard he tried, he _could_ _not_ write his name legibly.

That was when he decided to stick to a basic hello. Today, he was hanging off his bed in depression. No matter  _how_ many times he tried, the words he wrote only lasted for maybe 10 minutes, and then they faded without a response. What if...

What if he  _wasn't_ one of the rare special people like his parents?

That thought made him want to cry.

Suddenly, he gasped and sat up rigidly straight. There on his arm was... a picture? It wasn't words, but rather an octagon colored completely red. It  _wasn't_ a formal return greeting, but still! It was something he HADN'T drawn on himself! It HAD to be from his Soulmate!!!

Grabbing his favorite quill, Draco quickly dipped it in ink and pressed it to his arm, which made both his previous message and the answer disappear.  _You're there! You're real! What's your name? How old are you?!_

To his disappointment, after about two minutes, rather than answers to his questions, all he got was an even bigger red octagon. Sighing, Draco decided to wait and try again tomorrow.

HJP

Harry growled in frustration. The words had originally started by appearing at random when he couldn't even read them, but now they appeared every night without fail. He'd copied them down once to ask his teacher what they said, and she had smiled and told him: “Hello, anyone there?”

After that, Harry eventually got frustrated by the repeated message, so he finally tried to tell it to stop by drawing a stop sign on his arm. Only that ended up provoking a  _lot_ of words. So Harry drew an even bigger stop sign.

The next night he got the usual hello, followed by something new he couldn't read, and so, he decided to just ignore the writing. For a year or so, he kept his sleeves firmly down and never even dared to look at his arm when he was in the shower.

One day, something happened that made Harry sigh in relief. In class, they read a story about a pair of boy girl twins meeting an imaginary friend and going with him into an imaginary world that was full of adventures.

So... him seeing writing that didn't exist probably meant that he was imagining it. That he was imagining a friend talking to him. No  _wonder_ his imaginary friend was always just trying to say hello!

That night, Harry took off his shirt – since it was hot and stuffy in his cupboard anyway – and stared at his arm as he waited for his imaginary friend to say something.

_Hello? Please talk to me. What did I do wrong?_

Harry felt a little bad that his imaginary friend sounded so sad. He took out a ballpoint pen he'd stolen from the kitchen junk drawer, and did his best to write on his own arm.

_Nothin. I'm jus not lowd to have mag-nary fren._

A minute or so went by, but then both lines faded and a new one appeared.

_But you're my special person!_

Harry didn't quite know what to think of that. He thought and thought, but nothing seemed right. Finally, he decided that an imaginary friend would HAVE to think he was special.

_Sorree but ples stop tryin to get me in trble._

When nothing more came and all the words faded, Harry sighed in relief and went to sleep.

DLM

Draco was  _determined_ to not give up on his Soulmate. He also didn't want to get her in trouble, so he stopped writing every night. Instead, he only wrote on Friday nights. 

This went on for a couple of years, and maybe because he wasn't pushing his luck too far, but his Soulmate never told him to stop again. Most of the time, she simply didn't respond, but when she did, she actually talked to him. Fortunately, her spelling and grammar got better.

_How old are you? I'd ask your name, but every time I've tried to write mine, it disappears._

It was agony to wait even the minute or so it took for a response!

_I'm 10. Gonna be 11 soon._

_Really? I just turned 11 last month! I'll be going to ~~~ ugh! It disappeared, so I can't tell you the name of my school either._

_My cousin's going to a special school too, but me, I'm just going to a normal school._

_NORMAL??? What do you mean a normal school?_

_I mean normal. What else would I mean???_

Biting his lip, Draco had a moment of severe apprehension. What if his Soulmate was... a muggle...? Deciding that he had to think this over, he hastily scribbled:  _got to go, good night!_

Not even waiting for a reply, he slipped out of bed to his trunk that was already packed for Hogwarts. Opening it, he quickly located a book that he'd found in his family library about a year ago. It was called Rare and Unusual Magic.

Opening it, he quickly located the chapter on Soulmates.

_While rare, Soulmates are two people who share a special bond. This bond is lifelong and does not have to be romantic. As far as anyone can tell, the bond is formed because those two people have important things to teach each other._

_Beedle the Bard – not always the most reliable of sources – wrote that he once interviewed nearly a hundred pairs of Soulmates during his journeys. Through these interviews, he found that almost nothing made sense regarding Soulmates. First of all, very few of them were the same age as each other. Lots of them were very different in age._

_Secondly, because only a few of the bonds are romantic, the main reason the bond seems to form is because fate – or perhaps magic herself – feels that the older partner has important things to help the younger partner with. Although Beedle reports that at least one of the bonds was formed because the younger partner claimed to be the reincarnated soul of Merlin, and was a such a prodigy in all magical arts that the older partner needed that bond to protect his people from rampant witch hunts._

_Thirdly, of those that_ were _romantic, the couple did have reasonably similar ages, but even then, the purpose of the bond didn't seem to be SOLELY to make the couple be together, but rather to help them both get through a rather difficult and trying time._

Draco sighed and gripped the book tightly. He LONGED to strangle it! “WHAT ABOUT MUGGLES?!?!”

Finally, several paragraphs later, there was this vague but reassuring tidbit:  _Thus, the only thing we can say for certain is that both partners have magic._

Relieved, Draco tucked the book back in his trunk and crawled back in bed. “So... if she goes to a regular school – presumably meaning a muggle one – then maybe she's actually a mudblood and just hasn't gotten her letter yet. AH!”

Draco was suddenly  _torn_ between running to talk to his mother, and burying himself under his blankets so that he could scream in horror over this prospect.

HJP

Harry was laying in his bed in shock. So many things had happened recently. First, he'd gotten a mysterious letter that his Aunt and Uncle refused to let him read. But this letter was addressed to him  _in the cupboard under the stairs_ and so, they were shamed into giving him his own room. Then more and more letters came, driving Uncle Vernon mad to the point that they'd all gone to a remote place in the middle of nowhere to get away from them.

_Then_ a giant of a man showed up and took him shopping because HE'S A WIZARD!!!

Harry was so much in shock by these events that he lay in his bed not believing it was real. He was actually passed out in his cupboard dreaming the whole thing. He was good at imagining things, after all. For example, his imaginary friend.

But no! He now had an owl! And she was real enough that she could land on him, put dead mice on his chest, and try to nibble on his fingers. Good thing he wasn't afraid of mice or spiders, having been raised in a cupboard.

Nearly the whole month until he had to go to King's Cross passed before he realized that he hadn't received anything new from his imaginary friend. Had he or she stopped existing? Excited and nervous about this new chapter of his life, Harry did something he'd never done before: he wrote first.

_Guess what? I'm going to a special school after all._

_A Wizarding school, right?_

_How'd you – no wait, you're imaginary, of course you know everything about me._

_I'm NOT imaginary!_

After that, neither of them wrote again for a long time. The next time words appeared – after Easter break and nearing the end of the year – Harry felt a chill down to his bone.

_I saw a baby dragon!_

Was his imaginary friend Ron or Hermione??? No wait...  _Of course_ his imaginary friend had seen a baby dragon! It's exactly like how he or she had known Harry was going to a Wizarding school. His friend saw and knew everything Harry did, phew!

DLM

During the summer between First and Second Year, Draco got so bored that after ordering all his house elves to dance and sing with him for the hundredth time, he lay on his bed and wrote on his arm.

_I actually miss school._

Considering it was during the day, he didn't think he'd get a reply.

_I REALLY miss school!_

_Oh really? Why?_ Draco asked in confusion. He could understand a little bit of missing school and friends and Quidditch, but this seemed a bit desperate.

_You KNOW why! I was supposed to be in my room sitting there as quietly as possible and pretending I don't exist, only some stupid house elf came in and made loud noises that got me in trouble, and then crashed the violet pudding my Aunt made, and now I'm locked in my room forever and they say that I can't ever go back to school!_

Draco frowned, wondering why he'd know any of that.  _That's horrible! You can't actually be locked in your room forever, can you?_

_You know I am! There are bars on the window and the door's locked with a tiny door to push food through. Even ~~~ is locked in her cage, not that she could go flying anyway._

_If I knew who you were and where you lived, I'd have my parents go rescue you._

_Of course you know! You're my imaginary friend, you know EVERYTHING about me! Just like when we saw that baby dragon!_

_UGH! Why the bloody hell are you so STUPID?!?! I'm NOT imaginary! I'm a real boy who goes to the same special school you do! And my parents would have yours in prison if they heard how barbaric they were being!_

_My parents are DEAD, so shove off and leave me alone, yeah?_

Draco was tempted to yank on his hair. Why did his soulmate have to be so bloody frustrating?! Deciding he was done for the night, he had his house elf run him a bath and watched as his toy ships conducted a rather epic battle of Pirates versus the Navy. Eventually he was ready for bed and crawled in it to snuggle with his stuffed dragon body pillow – which was snoring almost too loud to ignore, so Draco poked him in the eye. Soon enough, they were  _both_ asleep.

HJP

“D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?” Harry asked his two best friends in the privacy of an empty classroom.

“No,” Ron answered without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world.”

Harry squinted suspiciously. “You do believe me, don't you?”

“'Course I do,” Ron assured him quickly. “But you must admit it's weird...”

“I know it's weird,” Harry said, suppressing a sigh. After a bit of a discussion, it occurred to him that he should probably ask about the writing on his arm, but by that point, the three of them had agreed to go back to their dorms before they got in trouble again.

A while later, when slipping into bed one night, Harry spotted these words on his arm:  _I won a duel today._

_Ha ha, not funny._

_What? I did!_

_We both know that the Dueling Club did not go well._

_Well no... but that's only because the Professor in charge is a blithering idiot!_

_Yeah he is! WHY he's allowed to teach here is beyond me!_

_He probably smiled at our Headmaster so charmingly that he stopped thinking and hired him. They say he's odd like that._

Harry yawned and wished he could sleep, but his head was too full of worries such as: Does being able to talk to snakes automatically make him a bad person? Is he REALLY the many times great grandson of Salazar Slytherin? Who in the bloody hell would he even ask???

Sometime in January, Harry found a book in the girls' bathroom that had upset Moaning Myrtle, and too curious to just leave well enough alone, he kept it. After a horrifying Valentine's day, Harry finally figured out the secret to the diary.

_UNLIKE_ with an imaginary friend, this was a magic book. It could be spelled to give him all sorts of information! Unfortunately, it told him that Hagrid had been expelled for trying to keep a monster as a pet that ended up killing a girl. After that, Harry didn't have the heart to write in the diary for a while, and then it was stolen right out his trunk!

Worse! Almost immediately, the only thing Harry was looking forward to – the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor – was canceled because of a double attack involving Hermione! Utterly morose, as he waited for the right time for him and Ron to sneak out under the invisibility cloak, he decided to complain to his imaginary friend.

_I hate that Quidditch was canceled! We've been practicing for AGES only for it to be called off!_

_Oh? You play too?_

_Yeah, I'm a seeker, but that's not important. What IS important is that one of my best friends was attacked, and while I hate that Quidditch was canceled, I hate that she's been petrified even more!_

DLM

Draco was floored. Literally as he'd fallen out of his bed. “ _Noooo_ !!!!”

“Problem?” Blaise asked him curiously.

But Draco didn't even hear him. He was currently so preoccupied that he went straight into the shower for his dorm and turned it on until it was two degrees short of scalding. Then he stood there – fully dressed in his pajamas – letting the soothing hot water rain down on him.

_Bloody buggering Merlin!!! Harry bloody Potter is my Merlin be damned SOULMATE!!!_

It took him banging his head on the wall several times before he could wrap his head around this information.

“Maybe it's the Hufflepuff Seeker talking about that other girl,” he tried to convince himself, but honestly, that was pretty unlikely. 

Draco banged his head a few more times, muttering: “Why me???”

Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg all stood back watching him in utter bafflement. This was more or less normal for Vince and Greg, but even Blaise was scratching his head. “Should we try and stop him?” But before they could make any decisions, Draco roared while tugging on his hair.

“WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!” And with that, Draco abruptly spun around and marched out of the shower, stripping off his sopping clothes with a spell and climbing into his bed so that he could pull the covers completely over his head and scream into his pillow.

“Probably best to just leave him be,” Theo muttered, and since none of them could think of something better to do, they all just went to their own beds.

After screaming for a while, Draco vowed to never again write on his arm. In fact, he was going to forget this whole soulmate thing and... try very  _very_ hard to forget that he figured out that it's Harry.

Sighing, he eventually drifted off to sleep.

HJP

Harry stared at his arm with a frown. He couldn't recall the last time his imaginary friend even wrote to him. Did he FINALLY grow up enough to stop having an imaginary friend?

“Harry! HARRY!”

“What?” Harry demanded grumpily as Hermione literally SHOOK him.

“I didn't find any spells to help you with the dragon yet, but look! I found a book called Rare and Unusual Magic! It's FULL of _fascinating_ things! Did you know there's a Soulmate Bond?! It says that this is somehow spontaneous – like Magic just KNOWS when two people are going to need each other – but that it can ALSO be created by a spell!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione, unless that spell can somehow sneak me past a dragon, I really don't care!”

“Well no, but it says that Soulmates can write to each other on their arms. Wouldn't that be brilliant?! Then I could write spells for you to try while you're up against the dragon!”

Harry tilted his head to look at her suspiciously. “You... want to perform some sort of Soulmate Bond Spell with me???”

She blushed. “It's not like that! This says that Soulmates usually aren't romantically involved. But more to the point, I  _couldn't_ perform the spell with you, even if I wanted to.”

“Er... why not?” Harry asked, curious despite himself.

“No one knows the spell. It's been lost for hundreds of years, but apparently, it involves a small exchange of souls, and so, sounds too dangerous to use – even if it was _in_ this book.”

At this point, Hermione devolved into excited babbling that Harry completely tuned out because it wasn't going to help him anyway. However, he did bite on his thumbnail as he thought things over. Spell to use against a dragon. Spell to use against a dragon. Spell – Wait!

Did she say write on arms?!

Scratching his cheek, Harry nudged Hermione with his elbow. “Why would Soulmates need to write to each other on their arms?”

“No one knows for sure. According to this book, there seems to be a bunch of rules, such as they CAN'T say their own names – or any names at all – until they've met and acknowledged their bond. They can't give any information as to their location, so they can't just say: Meet me at Madam Puddifoot's at Noon on Valentine's day. But apparently the bond is so they can help each other out. MAYBE they're too far away to meet, and so writing on their arms is the ONLY way they can help each other.”

Harry stopped listening again, since it sounded like she was going to go on and on for quite some time. So... maybe his friend wasn't so imaginary after all.

DLM

Draco couldn't help it, he was bloody impressed! And relieved. So relieved that he broke his promise to himself.

_I hate to admit it, but I was worried about you. When I first saw that dragon – Well actually, I LOVE dragons, so I was really happy to see all of them. But you looked so small and weak and pathetic and I... I suddenly remembered that you could be burned. Or stomped on. Or maybe even eaten! I think my heart actually stopped for a moment. But then... you flew... and my heart... flew with you..._

A minute or so later, Draco's writing disappeared and new writing scrawled across his arm.

_So you DO still exist. I was beginning to think I'd grown up enough that... but now I know something I didn't before. Apparently this is a sign of a Soulmate Bond. So... are you my Soulmate? And hang on! How do you know who I am???_

_Better late than never, I suppose. You see, since I never assumed that you were some sort of imaginary being, I've done my best to figure out who you were. At first, all I knew was that we went to the same school, but then you told me little things – tiny details that eventually added up._

_So you know who I am but can't tell me who you are?_

_Exactly! I can only tell you little things, such as: I'm a seeker too._

_CHO???_

Draco sighed and wondered if he should say anything at all. Also, apparently the spell didn't recognize that as a name, since now that he thought back on it, Harry had once referred to his  _owl_ and it wouldn't let her name come through. Inexplicably grumpy, Draco rolled over in his bed, a very faint feeling almost like a feather stroking him let him know that new words had appeared.

_Sorry, I bet that didn't come through since it's a name._

_All I want to say for now is that I'm not a girl, so..._

After that, the conversation was over.

HJP

Harry paced back and forth in his dorm when he had some rare time alone – a while later. Cedric? Or Malfoy? Cedric or Malfoy? Cedric or Malfoy? This question had been bothering him for  _ages_ now!

See, on the one hand, if it WAS Cedric and he KNEW that they could talk to each other via their arms, then why had he gone to the trouble of finding him and telling him IN PERSON about the egg? Also, since no one would know anyway, why wouldn't he just TELL him what the secret of the egg was?

On the other hand, unless it was Cho lying about not being a girl to throw him off, it was MALFOY!!! HOW and WHY in the hell was it MALFOY?!?!

Harry groaned and tore at his hair as he paced. Eventually he decided to just forget this whole dilemma and focus on the bloody egg. So, taking Cedric's advice, he lugged it off to the Prefects' bathroom to take a bath with it.

DAMN!! This bathroom was NICE!

Much later on, as Harry was falling asleep, he decided that even if it was Malfoy, it didn't really change anything. They still clearly hated each other very much. Except... Malfoy had said he was worried about him. So... DID it change anything?

DLM

Draco sat watching the lake with everyone else. This part was actually pretty boring. That said, the people in charge of the event FINALLY got around to telling everyone what was going on. It seems that each Champion had someone important to them – apparently their MOST important person – taken hostage. Their task was simple: rescue the person before time ran out.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco crossed him arms over his chest. “It should've been me,” he muttered unhappily. After all, wasn't a  _Soulmate_ supposed to be a person's most important person?

And Salazar damnit! Now that he'd admitted to being worried about Harry, he couldn't stop himself from practically  _obsessing_ over Harry! He wanted to be with him and talk to him and maybe even eat dinner together.

When it seemed like HOURS had passed (but it was probably only about 45 minutes), he got fed up enough to secretly write on his own arm:  _What's TAKING you so long?!_

But there was no answer. Honestly, Draco'd be surprised if Harry even had a chance to read his arm down there. Even so, he was getting worried. What if... What if Harry had drowned?

Now tempted to bite his nails, Draco had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly, he realized that he was digging his nails into his face. Also, his friends were giving him strange looks. To cover his blunder, he beckoned to the nearest snack seller and bought something for everyone in Slytherin.

Secretly, he wished he could change the badges he'd made to say:  _Potter is my Champion_ . Or:  _Hands off what's mine!_ Or:  _Don't bloody die in that lake, Potter!_

Then –  _finally_ – Harry emerged from the lake and it turned out that he was late because he'd stupidly believed that he HAD to rescue everyone and refused to return until he had. Shaking his head, Draco couldn't only think:  _Why does my Soulmate have to be such a bloody moron?_

To his surprise, when he was strolling around the Lake a few days later, alone because he'd told his henchmen to go bully some first years without him, Harry caught up to him. At first, the two of them looked around very carefully to see if anyone was around. Then Harry turned to  _peer_ at him.

“It's _you_ , isn't it?”

Draco looked at a point past Harry's left shoulder. “I'm quite sure I don't know  _what_ you're talking about.”

Since it was nice out, neither boy was wearing his school robe, and their uniform shirts were both short sleeved. So, Harry decided to prove it, one way or the other. He took out a marker and quickly wrote just one word:  _Soulmate?_

Draco instinctively tried to hide his arm from view, but instantly realized that the action itself basically shouted that it was true. With a sigh, he gave in and held his arm out for Harry to see. Harry unexpectedly sat down (collapsed?) with a sigh.

“So it's true. What does this mean?”

Draco snorted in amusement. “There are only two reasons for a Soulmate bond to exist, and I can bloody well guarantee you that it's NOT so that we can help each other!”

“So...” Harry droned in thought. “So... That means...” He looked up at Draco, who glared at him menacingly. “Boyfriends???”

With a sigh of profound relief, Draco felt weak in the knees and flopped down next to Harry before he fell off his feet. “Look, we both know very well why we can NEVER tell ANYONE about this! Not even your weasel or little-miss-know-it-all.”

Harry growled at at, but since Draco hadn't used worse words – such as mudblood – he let it go.

Ignoring the growl, Draco continued. “We can only meet in  _absolute_ secrecy, and no matter what, we HAVE to pretend in front of everyone else that we hate each other as much as we always have.”

“Who said I'd be pretending? After all, _you're_ the prat that made those stupid badges!” Harry snarled unhappily.

Sighing, Draco pointed at the badge he was wearing. “I made a new one for myself. This one, well, see?” He tapped it and it changed from Support Cedric Diggory to Potter is my Champion.

Harry leaned over so that he could inspect the badge VERY closely. It had to be a trick somehow. Even so, it  _did_ seem to be real. To his surprise, Draco cupped his chin and lifted his face a couple of inches for...

Harry inhaled a gasp of shock as he received his very first kiss. Not knowing what to do, he closed his eyes and gently placed his hands on Draco's chest. He had no experience to compare it to, but this kiss was... powerful! Almost electric. Moaning, he opened his mouth.

Encouraged, Draco pulled Harry closer and – without breaking off their kiss – gently lay them both on the ground, him on top of Harry. Then he got busy exploring that mouth that tasted like... butterbeer and treacle tart. The two of them spent probably an hour like this before Harry pushed Draco away with a gasp.

“God! Where'd you learn to kiss like that?!”

Draco chuckled softly. “Just random meaningless practice.”

Harry harrumphed, feeling inexplicably jealous. He pouted and glared, tempted to push Draco completely off him and smack him across the face. Instead, Draco laughed, shook his head, and kissed Harry again.

An eternity might have passed in a cloud of bliss, but suddenly, a voice yanked them from their euphoria. “HARRY!! Where ARE you?! You're going to miss dinner!”

“Bloody hell, that's Ron! I've gotta go!”

Draco simply rolled off Harry and watched him get up and run off toward the voice that was getting closer to where they were hiding in a small clump of trees near the lake. Grinning like an idiot, Draco slowly got up, brushed himself off, and leisurely walked back to the castle.

A couple of days later, Draco could just spit fire! He was outside their potions classroom as Pansy was regaling them all with an article in Witch Weekly – all about Hermione Granger being Harry Potter's girlfriend and toying with him by playing with Viktor Krum's heart too. He and his fellow Slytherins watched avidly as The Golden Trio read the article Pansy tossed at them, but rather than get upset – or give any indication that it wasn't true – Hermione simply smiled and waved.

Meanwhile, Harry looked like the article was written about someone else, and the weasel looked remarkably close to being jealous – considering that he was pounding his pestle into the work table rather than the mortar full of scarab beetles. After Snape told them off, Harry finally thought to look at Draco, who was so upset by this point that he simply HAD to show his anger. So he tapped on his badge in the spot that would make it read POTTER STINKS!

A moment later, Snape picked up the article and read it out loud to the entire class. It shouldn't have been funny – it SHOULD have made Draco sympathetic to his Soulmate – but it was utterly  _hilarious_ in Snape's snarky voice. Draco couldn't help but roar with laughter.

HJP

To Harry's surprise, Draco cornered him in the boys' bathroom closest to the Great Hall, after they'd finished eating dinner – when he'd told Ron and Hermione to go on without him. Harry had just finished up using the urinal and was washing his hands, when Draco entered the bathroom and roughly shoved him into the nearest stall. They were all empty, so Harry was deeply confused about sharing a stall. Especially since he'd just went!

Draco glared at him fiercely. “ARE you dating that mud – hhhh! Granger. Are you dating Granger?”

“No! She's just my best friend!” Harry denied vehemently.

“Good!” Draco snarled, still not looking very happy. Then he quite took Harry's breath away by kissing him extremely possessively. This continued on for so long that Harry quite forgot all about poor Hermione and her vicious hate mail. 

It may have actually lasted all night, except an older boy popped into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder: “Just give me a tic, I plan to hurry so that we can run and be back in our dorms before curfew!”

Harry and Draco both held their breath and made absolutely no noise as the other boy used the urinal and washed his hands in record time. He could be heard sniggering as he left: “Why didn't  _I_ ever think to sneak a girl into a bathroom stall with me?”

“What???” A girl asked in bafflement.

“There's two pairs of feet in a stall –” But the rest was cut off as the bathroom door shut.

Harry nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Erm... I should probably go. I've got LOADS of stairs to run up before curfew.”

Draco snickered softly, giving Harry one last tiny kiss. “Good luck!” After that, he turned and left. Harry felt his brain melt as he watched him go, and then literally shook himself and raced off toward Gryffindor tower.

Infuriatingly, it was only a couple of days later – the morning of the Final Task – when Rita Skeeter published a nasty article about him and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at Draco – who was roaring with laughter with all his friends at the Slytherin table. Not just laughing, but making hurtful faces at him too.

Harry planned to go tell him off after breakfast – since Hermione rushed off to confirm an epiphany and Ron had to hurry to his History of Magic Exam – but he was surprised to find Mrs. Weasley and Bill waiting for him with the other Champions' families. All in all, Harry quickly forgot to be mad at Draco – which was good since Draco managed to ambush him in the bathroom once again – as Harry was making his way toward the Third Task.

“No matter what, _don't_ die!” Draco insisted, giving Harry a thorough kiss. He then ran off before Harry could remember that he wanted to punch Draco for making fun of him that morning.

“Die?” Harry questioned apprehensively. However, since the First Task had been a dragon, and the Second Task in a lake so deep he could have easily drowned if anything went wrong, he supposed there WAS a chance he could die. Sighing in defeat, Harry had his slash and hurried off to his hopefully _not_ death.

As it turned out, it was  _Cedric_ that died. Also, Harry actually did almost die, but it had nothing to do with the Tournament and everything to do with Voldemort trying to murder him again. Only quick reflexes and sheer luck saved him and allowed him to bring Cedric's body back.

The next time Harry saw Draco was at the End of Term Feast. Dumbledore was talking about Cedric's death, and Draco didn't look sad in the slightest. In fact, he didn't even seem to be paying attention! This pissed Harry off so much that if it had just been the two of them, there'd have been hexes and punches flying in equal measure.

_Especially_ when Draco led most of the Slytherins in  _sitting_ during a toast to honor Harry's bravery.  _What the hell is with him?! He is a right bastard to me in public, but then KISSES me whenever he gets a chance?!?! ARGH!!!_

The next time he saw Draco was on the Hogwarts' Express, and he was still so angry at the slimy git that he felt justified hexing him and his henchmen unconscious, and then leaving them laying there – definitely worse for the hexes – for the rest of the trip. In fact, his last sight of Draco was still unconscious as everyone else disembarked. For all he cared, the bastard could lay there forever.

Fifth Year – Still Harry

During that summer, just when Harry was starting to truly feel frustrated by his friends saying  _nothing_ when they wrote him, Draco surprised him.

_I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry._

_You don't KNOW??? You were being such a bloody bastard to me and my friends!!!_

_Yeah, but I TOLD you that we'd have to act like we HATED each other in public! OF COURSE I was being a prat!_

_Hmm..._

Harry ended there, determined not to be won over so easily. But to be honest, by the time summer was over and he was back on the Hogwarts' Express, he forgotten all about his anger at Draco. Thus, when Draco led his two lumbering henchmen into their compartment to threaten them, Harry was a little... softer toward him.

Until Draco made what sounded like a threat toward Sirius. That made Harry want to hex him all over again. As he lay in bed that night, he decided to write on his arm.

_What the bloody hell did you mean by that threat, Malfoy?!_

_This again, Potter? I TOLD you that I have to act like I hate you!_

_No I mean that part about dogging me!_

_Oh! Well... I was just hoping that I'd be able to catch you alone from time to time so that... you know..._

Harry paused a moment to think this over. If he was honest, he'd actually REALLY liked kissing Draco. Smiling a bit shyly, despite being alone in his bed with the curtains shut, he shrugged.

_Yeah, alright, I could go for that._

There wasn't a response, but even so, Harry had a feeling that Draco was grinning rather smugly.

However, their first class together – Double Potions – had Harry ready to punch Draco again. Snape had decided to pick on Harry, and rather than pretend not to see, Draco had LAUGHED at him. Harry was so irate that he rushed out of the dungeon the  _moment_ the bell rang. He hid in the first alcove and hastily pulled his invisibility cloak on. When Draco passed by – at the back of all the Slytherins because he was too busy sniggering over something to walk properly – Harry yanked him into the alcove and covered him with the cloak.

“Sod off Malfoy!”

“ _Harry_!” Draco exclaimed in sheer delight before claiming a wonderful kiss that quickly clouded Harry's brain with a fog of bliss. 

Their kiss deepened and seemed like it was going to continue all day, except that Ron and Hermione walked past them, pulling Harry's mind out of the fog. Keeping his cloak over him, Harry pulled free from Draco and ran flat out so that he'd get to the Great Hall before his friends did.

Both joined him for lunch with full sympathy, but Harry had almost forgotten what they were even talking about. But then he remembered and was grumpy all over again.

Time passed and Harry was tempted to glare at Draco as he and his Slytherin cronies overtly made fun of him and his friends right before Care of Magical Creatures. During that same class, Draco was doing his absolute BEST to be an arsehole. Especially once he realized that Harry was worried about Hagrid.

Draco leaned across Harry to grab the biggest Bowtruckle. “Maybe the stupid oaf's got himself badly injured.”

Knowing that no one else had heard the whisper, Harry did his best to be quiet in return. “Maybe  _you_ will if you don't shut up,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too _big_ for him, if you get my drift,” Draco added, smirking at Harry as he walked away.

Harry suddenly felt sick! It didn't help at all that Draco loudly told all his friends that Hagrid would probably be sacked even if he did turn up. And then LAUGHED at both Harry and Hagrid until Harry managed to grab his blood stained picture (the Bowtruckle he'd been holding while drawing it had scratched him nastily and run off), and escape in the direction of his next class with Ron and Hermione.

A few days later, Harry managed to catch Draco alone and was  _determined_ to punch him for being such a nasty git! Except the moment they shut the door to the empty classroom, they threw their arms around each other and kissed as if their lives depended on it. This continued on, getting ever more passionate, until Draco slid his hand down Harry's chest until he had a hold of Harry's belt.

“Erm!” Harry gasped in surprise, pulling back. “I've, erm, I've gotta go before Ron and Hermione find me here!” And with that, he ran away like a bloody coward.

After serving several detentions with Umbridge, Harry was looking forward to his upcoming Quidditch practice. Ron was now the Keeper and they  _really_ needed to train him in. Only Draco had inexplicably decided to show up with his nasty Slytherins so that they could all TAUNT Ron and laugh at him as much as possible.

Of course, Draco couldn't just NOT taunt Harry too: “Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling? Sure you don't need a lie-down? It must be, what? A whole week since you were in the hospital wing; that's a record for you, isn't it?”

Harry did his best to ignore him, but God damn! WHY did his Soulmate have to be such an infuriating, foul, nasty bastard jerk arsehole sonovabitch?! ARGH!!!

“Gryffindors are losers!” The Slytherins chanted gleefully, until it was irrevocably stuck in Harry's head.

That night, Harry wrote just one word on his arm:  _Arsehole!_ And refused to respond to any of Draco's cajoling.

When Draco inadvertently heckled him for getting a D on his Moonstone Essay in Potions, Harry was tempted to punch him all over again. After a discussion on the various grades – Hermione was having a hard time accepting that she got less than a passing grade on her essay – Harry managed to slip off to the bathroom before Divination.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Draco followed him and roughly shoved him into a stall. “Look! I  _know_ you're mad at me for acting the way I do, but what do you think would happen to us – to BOTH of us – if anyone found out that we're Soulmates?!”

Sighing in defeat, Harry wondered if he could get away with punching Draco (or maybe just slapping him) every time he acted up in public. AND THEN making it up to him by snogging the bloody daylights out of him. Rather than say anything, he simply grabbed Draco and stole a demanding kiss.

Sighing, Draco visibly relaxed and returned the kiss until Harry remembered that he had Divination and rushed off before he was late.

Unfortunately – as it meant no kissing – their next interaction was when Umbridge was inspecting Grubbily-Plank's class. Draco had complained about getting slashed by a Hippogriff, and Harry'd earned yet another detention by pointing out that it had happened: “Only because he's too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do.”

Draco did not look best pleased, but said nothing.

A couple of days later, Harry was wandering around under his invisibility cloak when he couldn't sleep. He spotted Draco making the rounds as a prefect, and decided to maybe punch him after all. He yanked him into an empty classroom, then quickly shut and locked the door.

“Oh! It's you! DON'T _scare_ me like that!!!” Draco cried out, panting heavily and clutching his chest.

Harry smirked at him. “Oh? I think I should do it all the time!”

Draco harrumphed and pulled Harry close for a nice long kiss. Sighing happily, Harry relaxed into it, deciding not to think about anything else at all for the rest of the night. Sensing that something was different, Draco decided to push his luck. He slowly slid a hand down Harry's chest, and this time, Harry let him unbuckle his belt.

When Draco pulled back enough to work open Harry's trousers too, that's when he noticed the hesitation in Harry's eyes. “Something the matter?”

“I, erm... no. I just, erm...”

“Don't worry,” Draco assured him, and since he was taller than Harry, decided to sit on the nearest desk. He pulled Harry in between his legs, then took a moment to open his own trousers and conjure plenty of lubrication into his hand. Now ready, he wanked them both together. This meant that they were close enough that Harry was able to resume kissing Draco.

They both made happy little noises as their snogging and wanking got them oh so close in very little time. Harry suddenly threw his head back with a gasp and muttered a long string of non magical curses as he  _gripped_ Draco's shoulders. Probably hard enough to leave bruises.

Draco groaned as the hot splash on his hands triggered his own orgasm. The two of them leaned together while recovering for a few minutes. Then Harry suddenly pulled back and gave Draco a quick kiss.

“Thanks for that! But I have to go!” Harry practically shouted as he put himself away and fastened his trousers.

Draco couldn't help but smirk rather smugly. “Why Potter,  _no underwear?_ ”

Harry stopped just in front of the door to look back at him. “What would be the point? They're all hand me downs from my cousin, and so, WAY too big for me. They don't stay up and make me look like I'm wearing a diaper with the way they bunch up in my trousers.”

“Mmm... So you mean to tell me... you _never_ wear underwear?” Draco asked with a predatory grin.

“Not unless I remember that I can buy some in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, which I never do,” Harry answered with a shy expression that was nonetheless still a grin.

Draco was quite looking forward to ogling him the next time they met. As for Harry, he was  _almost_ ready to forgive Draco for being an arsehole. Until the next time they interacted in public – which was after Hermione had convinced him to start up his own class and recruit students in the Hog's Head. 

That had led to Umbridge revoking their ability to do any sort of extracurricular activity.  _Including_ Quidditch! He and his friends were trudging to the dungeons for Double Potions, when Draco clearly spotted them coming.

“Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway. I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well. He's always popping in and out of the Ministry... It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?”

“Don't rise,” Hermione warned imploringly. “It's what he wants...”

“I _mean,_ ” Draco got noticeably louder, his gray eyes glittering malevolently. “If it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance. … From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... and as for Potter... My father says it's only a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... Apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic...”

To all their surprise,  _Neville_ pushed past Harry to attack Draco, but Harry managed to grab hold of him – and with Ron's help – they dragged him away before he could actually get in trouble for fighting. With Draco anyway. Snape purposely assumed they were fighting with each other.

He was so mad at Draco again that he sought him out as soon as possible – once again after Curfew and under his cloak. This time Draco wasn't quite so scared to be yanked off his feet and thrown into an empty classroom.

“Harry! I thought you were going to avoid me for a while longer!” Draco cried out happily, already trying to grab Harry and kiss him.

“Yeah, well you were half right! I'm _furious_ with you!”

But rather than take this seriously, Draco simply snogged the breath right out of Harry's lungs. Harry's brain immediately went blank. Before he could even attempt to remember why he was so mad, he caved in and gave Draco every bit as good as he got.

They were soon tearing at each other's trousers, conjuring lubrication and frotting together oh so heavenly even as they held each other tight. Draco's hands were on Harry's hips, guiding them both a bit frantically. Meanwhile, Harry's hands were tangled in Draco's shirt, practically yanking on it in his determination to keep their kissing every bit as hot as their frotting was.

When an orgasm rolled over him, Harry once again threw his head back and cried out obscenities. This made Draco grip his hips even harder and groan into Harry's neck. They both slumped together with absolutely NO desire to move for the foreseeable future.

This time, Draco took advantage of Harry's lethargy by pressing tiny kisses to his neck. Eventually, Harry moaned softly, pulling back just enough to give Draco some light kisses. Unfortunately, it was Draco who needed to rush off before he missed his official Prefect's curfew.

“Damnit! I was MAD at him!!!” Harry roared in frustration when he came back to himself a minute later. Sighing in defeat, he decided that Draco had probably made up for provoking Neville so harshly.

The next time Harry got a close up view of Draco was when their teams were scheduled to play against each other. Slytherin had taken every unfair advantage it could get, and Harry stared at Draco suspiciously. Draco stood on his side of the initial team gathering, his white-blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, which also highlighted his crown-shaped badge that said: Weasley is our King.

Harry was furious again! Every time he flew past Draco, Draco was singing the stupid song that went with the badge: “Weasley was born in a bin, he always lets the Quaffle in, that's why Slytherins all sing, Weasley is our King!”

Desperate to save both Ron AND the entire team, Harry searched for the snitch, racing neck and neck with Draco when they spotted it. Harry  _just barely_ managed to snatch it before Draco, and was rewarded with a Bludger to his back for his efforts.

After Angelina helped him to his feet and he reassured her that he was alright, Draco gave in to his own anger and frustration. “Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was  _born in a bin_ ... Did you like my lyrics, Potter?”

But Draco couldn't just leave it there. He kept goading Fred and George (Ron was already trudging his solitary way to the locker room), getting worse and worse until: “Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay. Or perhaps you can remember what  _your_ mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it!”

Harry lost all control at that point, letting go of George (who was already trying his best to attack Draco in return) and sprinting toward Draco. Using the hand that still held the snitch, Harry gave Draco a  _satisfying_ punch to the gut. He promptly followed up with as many punches as he possibly could – not truly noticing if George was doing the same, but considering all the girls positively  _screaming_ for both of them to stop, George probably was. 

Only a shouted: “IMPEDIMENTA!” forced them to stop.

Harry jumped to his feet after the tripping jinx that had knocked him off them wore off, and  _would_ have resumed his assault, except Madam Hooch was verbally filleting them. She  _insisted_ that they go to their Head of House that instant.

That night, a very timid looking:  _I'm sorry... I went too far..._ Appeared on Harry's arm. But Harry wasn't having it!

_I don't bloody care! You got me BANNED from playing Quidditch EVER AGAIN!!!_

No matter what Draco wrote after that, Harry refused to even look at his arm.

Harry had still not forgiven Draco by the time Hagrid returned and it was their first class with him back. Harry was maliciously  _happy_ that they were going into the Forbidden Forest since the prospect made Draco visibly apprehensive. The more Hagrid tried to reassure him, the more Draco looked panicky.

_Ha! Serves him right!_

Unfortunately for Draco, he only made Harry all the more angry when he made fun of Hagrid to Umbridge. And then angrier still when he made fun of Ron on their way to the next class. At this rate, Harry was definitely going to punch him again!

Which meant that after his last DADA meeting right before school let out for the three week Christmas break, when Cho pointed out the mistletoe and then kissed him, Harry didn't feel any sort of guilt. In fact, he was more than half convinced that he and Draco had the other – NOT romantic – form of Soulmate Bond. Thus, there was nothing to feel guilty about.

Even so, the kiss was...

“Wet,” he told Ron when pressed.

Ron made a sound that was hard to interpret.

“Because she was crying,” Harry added with a heavy sigh. He DIDN'T say that it was absolutely NOTHING compared to Draco's kisses.

“Oh... Are you that bad at kissing?” Ron wondered, his smile fading.

“Dunno,” Harry replied, suddenly worried that he was. Not even Draco had complimented him on his skill. “Maybe I am.”

“Of course you're not,” Hermione reassured him absently, still focusing on her letter.

“How do you know?” Ron asked in a sharp voice.

“Because Cho spends half her time crying these days,” Hermione informed him, her mind clearly elsewhere. “She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.”

That led to a conversation about Cho's feelings until Ron discovered that Hermione was writing to Viktor Krum, and THAT provoked some blessed silence as Ron stewed for a bit. Then they went to their dorms. Harry drifted off utterly confused about Cho and girls in general. He sincerely wished that they taught a class on how to understand how a girl's brain worked.

Due to an attack on Arthur, it was after Christmas before Harry saw or even  _thought_ about Draco. Occasionally, after word got out that 10 Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban and Draco'd made an arse out of himself over it, Draco would write:  _Still mad at me?_ But since Harry was, he didn't answer.

Actually, the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that he  _wasn't_ mad at Draco, he just wanted a chance to try a proper date with Cho. Thus, he avoided Draco and never responded to him. Unfortunately, his valentine's date with Cho didn't go very well, and ended with him rushing off to Hermione to give an interview to Rita Skeeter – of all people!

The good news was that when the article was published, Cho seemed to like him again. But judging by the dark look Draco gave him, the hate between them was back on again, and possibly even deeper than ever. Harry sighed a bit sadly, wondering if he was making the right choice.

A few days after Ron's birthday (which was March First), Harry realized that as happy as he was that Cho was no longer mad at him, he hadn't really had any sort of driving impulse to go see her again. Nor kiss her. The idea of kissing her used to make him, well, happy, but now he just... didn't really care.

So, when Draco cornered him in the boys' bathroom again (although it HAD been a while), he didn't try to escape or argue. Wary, Draco held out his hands.

“Listen, I know you're angry – and I'll admit that I was angry at you for a while too – but I just...” Draco trailed off uncertainly.

That same thing that made Harry's brain go offline whenever he saw Draco took over, making him grab the Slytherin prat and pull him close for a demanding kiss. Relieved, Draco pushed Harry into the nearest stall, giving them a bit of privacy should any other boys happen to come into the bathroom. After that, they snogged for so long that they probably missed a class. Harry could only pray that it wasn't Umbridge's – who would give him detention even if he claimed to be laying on the bathroom floor vomiting up his guts.

Just when Draco reached for Harry's belt, he managed to remember that they were in a rather public place with no real guarantee of privacy. He stopped Draco by grabbing his wrist. Draco looked upset to be denied.

“Not now,” Harry hissed in a whisper because he suspected that someone was now using the urinal. “I'll find you on patrol.”

“I'm near the dungeons tonight,” Draco whispered as he nibbled on Harry's ear.

“Figures,” Harry muttered. The two of them kissed until the other person in the bathroom washed his hands and left. Then they kissed for a minute or so just to be sure that they wouldn't get caught leaving the bathroom by the boy – who had probably seen their feet under the stall door.

That night, Harry found Draco pacing back and forth in front of a currently empty classroom. Clearly, he was trying to  _look_ like he was patrolling, even though he wasn't. Without a word, Harry tapped Draco on the arm to let him know he was there (under his cloak), and then went into the room. Draco followed, closing and locking the door behind him.

Harry was stunned to see a rather cozy little area off to the side. It had a bunch of plush cushions and was romantically lit by a bevy of candles. Good thing the castle was basically fireproof!

Harry looked at Draco, tilting his head curiously. Draco gave him a small smile that was shockingly shy – considering how confident he usually was. Harry tentatively returned the smile.

Taking a deep breath, Draco said: “So... since I  _knew_ we were going to be meeting up, I thought it might be nice to have a bit of comfort.”

“Good call,” Harry agreed with a bigger and more genuine smile.

Taking his hand, Draco led him to the cushions. They got to their knees, and then lay down so that Harry was on his back with Draco on top of him. The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant.

After that, Draco decided that with how little the two of them stopped being mad at each other long enough to get together (mostly Harry), he'd be a little bolder than he probably would have been otherwise. He distracted Harry with kisses as his fingers unbuttoned Harry's shirt. When it was halfway open, Draco shifted to kiss a path down Harry's chest. Actually, he took the time to suck a bunch of little bruises all over Harry's chest – in places that wouldn't be seen when he was dressed.

Harry was moaning and rubbing Draco's back encouragingly. Pleased that things seemed to be going in the right direction, Draco kept pushing his luck. He worked open Harry's trousers and pants until he could work that thick and puffy shaft with his hands and mouth. Harry gasped and arched his back as this never before experienced sensation made his mind practically explode from the pleasure. Just when he was getting close to orgasm, Draco shifted his mouth again.

“Erm...” Harry murmured hesitantly, his body stiffening a bit in alarm.

“Don't worry,” Draco assured him in a whisper. “This will feel good.”

“But _why_ would you want to put your _tongue_ there?!” Harry wondered, baffled.

Draco chuckled and caressed Harry's stomach soothingly. It took Harry a few minutes to stop being so self-conscious and relax again, but when he did, he groaned because Draco had been right. It felt  _so_ good!

Taking the time to really work him open, Draco eventually pushed three fingers in while his tongue wiggled all over the outside to soften him up. Also, he occasionally paused to cast a lubrication spell. Eventually, Harry was fairly well prepared.

Harry was hesitant to accept a kiss considering where Draco's mouth just was, but when there didn't seem to be a weird taste, gave in. He relaxed for about half a second before he realized that Draco was now pressing into him very intimately.

“Oh! Erm, wait!” 

Draco pulled back the millimeter or two he'd pushed forward. “Problem?”

“Well not a problem so much as...” Harry faltered, and then cleared his throat. “Look, you've gotten me into this, so I'm not saying no, just... You're not even undressed!”

Draco smirked. “I'm leaving something to the imagination to entice you with. Maybe you'll come back sooner.”

Harry shook his head. “Oh hell no! You're going to wait until I strip you off too!”

“Alright,” Draco agreed mildly, since it meant that Harry was going to let him resume things once naked. 

Harry wasted no time ripping Draco's shirt open (popping all the buttons off in the process) and using a spell to make Draco's trousers and pants temporarily intangible so they could be cast off to the side. Then he let his hands roam all over that pale smooth skin. Groaning again, Harry realized that he  _wanted_ what Draco had in mind. Slowly, he lay back down and pulled Draco back on top of him.

Nearly done in by Harry's show of trust, Draco had to take a deep breath and wait a moment to calm down. This gave him just enough time to think of something important. Mentally calling himself an idiot, Draco grabbed his wand and cast all the protection spells, and to make  _extra sure_ that Harry wouldn't be hurt, all the quick prep spells.

_Finally_ Draco was able to confidently push his way inside Harry. It took stopping a couple of times to let Harry adjust his position slightly, but then... it was like magic. Harry moaned and hugged Draco to him.

The two of them paused to kiss for nearly a minute before Harry wiggled impatiently. “Look, that's getting a bit uncomfortable. Move or something!”

Needing no further invitation, Draco picked a medium pace to begin with, making little grunts and moans as his body continually felt like a pixie was punching him with pleasure. Even Harry was gasping and panting and making noises that reassured Draco. They both focused on what was happening to the point that Draco didn't even feel Harry digging his nails into his back.

“Oh God!” Harry chanted, his voice getting higher and breathier as Draco's pace got faster and more grinding. Suddenly, Harry _really_ dug his nails into Draco's back, squealing and cursing like a sailor as his orgasm hit him with the force of the Whomping Willow.

The utterly fantastic little ripples made Draco's whole body shiver even as a storm seemed to be gathering at the base of his spine. With a roar, he dug his fingers into Harry's hips and surrendered to the climax sweeping him away. The whole world went white for a few seconds, and then Draco collapsed onto Harry, feeling like he'd be perfectly comfortable going right to sleep with Harry as his bed.

Harry hummed and purred as his breathing slowly calmed down. He also stroked Draco's spine up and down, loving how silky that creamy skin felt. He eventually had an urge to kiss Draco again, but the only thing he could reach at the moment was his shoulder.

“Mmm, how's this for incentive to see you again? How about next time, you let me do you?” Harry suggested.

Draco raised his head to look him in the eyes. “... We'll see...”

Harry smirked at him, thinking that it wouldn't be bad to be the bottom partner again, since this had been seriously brilliant. Then he sighed a bit morosely. “We should probably get to our dorms before...”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed reluctantly, as he still wanted nothing more than to stay here on top of Harry all night.

With several dozen tiny kisses, they managed to get dressed and go their separate ways. As Harry lay in bed thinking about what happened, he realized something important. Draco  _could_ have been a complete prick and basically taken pleasure from Harry without giving any in return, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd been considerate and patient, and in the process, had made Harry's first time unforgettable and fantastic.

Grinning, he grabbed a quill off his bedside drawer and dipped it in the bottle of ink – thankful that quills and ink were  _vastly_ easier to use on skin than ballpoints.  _Hey, thank you for making my first time so good._

_That was your first time??? Well... you're welcome..._

Harry had no way of knowing that Draco was suddenly a nervous wreck, thinking about all the things that could have gone wrong. No, all Harry knew was that he had a surprisingly excellent night's sleep.

For the rest of March, Harry met up with Draco as much as he possibly could. For nearly a month, his stolen time with Draco and his precious few hours with the DA were the  _only_ things he liked about his life. Umbridge – the devious bitch – had basically taken away everything else he normally loved about Hogwarts.

On the First of April, Harry was having a  _lovely_ DA meeting – teaching the Patronus Charm – when Dobby entered the room and (under great strain that Harry had to interpret) warned them that Umbridge knew what they were doing and was coming to get them. After forbidding Dobby to hurt himself, and also ordering him to lie if Umbridge questioned him, Harry was the last to leave the Room of Requirement. He was racing toward a nearby boys bathroom when something tripped him up, making him fall spectacularly and skid a good six feet before coming to a halt.

Behind him, amidst peals of laughter, Draco emerged from the niche under an ugly dragon shaped vase. “Trip Jinx, Potter!”

Harry growled in frustration. “Why are you being such a bastard to me  _again,_ Malfoy?!”

“Hush Potter, you're the one she really wants. If I give her you, the rest can probably escape – Hey Professor – PROFESSOR! I've got one!”

Harry didn't have time to do much more than glare at Draco before Umbridge came bustling breathlessly around the corner. She was beyond delighted and well into jubilant when she saw Harry lying on the floor.

“It's him! Excellent Draco! Excellent, oh! Very good, fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here... Stand UP Potter!” After telling Draco to go look for more rule breakers, Umbridge hauled Harry to the Headmaster's office.

For better or for worse, Dumbledore took the blame for Harry and left the school via Phoenix magic. Thus, Harry was left wondering about many things. Such as how much blame Cho had for her friend snitching. And more importantly, just exactly HOW mad was he at Draco?!

On the one hand, Draco may have tried to subtly help Harry by letting the others escape, but on the other hand...

Hermione and Ernie Macmillan were talking about Umbridge throwing a fit when she couldn't get into Dumbledore's office, Hermione saying: “Oh I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office. Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed up, power crazy old –”

“Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?” Draco asked from behind their group, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His gorgeously pale and pointy face was positively alight with malice. “Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.”

Everyone argued for a moment that Prefects couldn't do that, but Draco simply looked smugger than ever, pointing at a tiny silver  **I** under his prefect badge. “A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad  _do_ have the power to dock points... So, Granger, I'll have five points from you for being rude to our new Headmistress... Macmillan, five for contradicting me... Five because I don't like you, Potter... Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a mudblood, Granger, so ten for that.”

Ron pulled out his wand to hex Draco, but Hermione forced him not to.

Smirking, Draco said: “Wise move, Granger. New Head, new times... Be good now, Potty... Weasel King...” He and his henchmen laughed heartily as they strode away.

Even as Ernie held onto the hope that Draco couldn't be telling the truth, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Draco could be  _such_ a bloody buggering arsehole bastard! Seriously! Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to pay attention and not be caught mooning over his infuriating Soulmate boyfriend-like lover type person.

Happily, Umbridge's first day as Headmistress was spent chasing glorious fireworks all over the school. However, the next day, when Harry was on his way to Occlumency lessons with Snape, he ran across Cho, who tried to apologize to him for her friend, but only succeeded in making him madder than he could recall being – and he'd been mad a lot!

JUST when he and Snape were about to hex each other – er, practice Occlumency (in a strangely combative manner) – Draco burst into Snape's office.

“Professor Snape, sir – Oh – Sorry!” Draco apologized, clearly wondering why Snape and Harry looked about ready to duel.

It's alright, Draco,” Snape assured him, lowering his wand. “Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions.”

Draco looked entirely way too gleeful to hear that, gloating at Harry. “I didn't know.”

Harry sincerely wished that he could hex the both of them at that moment.

“Well, Draco, what is it?” Snape wondered.

“It's Professor Umbridge, sir – she needs your help,” Malfoy replied. “They've found Montague, sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.”

As grateful as Harry was for the reprieve, he was so filled with anger – at Cho, at Draco, at Snape – that he stopped giving all fucks and trespassed on Snape's memories in the Pensieve. That earned him even MORE enmity from Snape – which would have been fine since Snape was giving him the silent treatment, except that Snape deliberately smashed his nearly E quality Invigoration Draught.

_Which Draco had witnessed and LAUGHED at_ !!!

His anger might have actually been mostly been at his dad at this point. After the last couple of weeks of miserable enforced study for Easter Holidays, and forming a plan with Fred and George that helped him talk to Remus and Sirius – which didn't help as much as Harry hoped it would – Harry finally gave in to his need for comfort. On his arm he wrote:  _Meet me?_

A minute later, Draco responded with:  _Same classroom?_

Sighing in relief, Harry grabbed his cloak and ran out of his dorm room,  _praying_ that everyone else was asleep and hadn't noticed him leave. He sprinted under his cloak toward the dungeons, nearly out of breath when he finally arrived. Miraculously, no one noticed his feet, which simply HAD to be exposed as he ran.

He stopped short in the classroom door and pulled his cloak off, panting heavily. Draco took one look at him and held out his arms. “What's wrong?”

Not really wanting to talk about it, Harry shook his head and practically attacked Draco instead. The two of them barely remembered to shut and lock the door as they tore each other's clothes off. Their snogging was almost frantic. Their  _need_ to be together was more powerful than anything. 

Harry didn't even try to ask Draco for a turn at topping, he simply surrendered to Draco, urging him to get on with it when initial preparation took just a bit too long. The two of them shagged  _hardcore_ ! Harry felt like he couldn't catch his breath, and honestly, he was more than half hoping that Draco would literally shag him to death and bring him some much needed peace.

When they were done and had collapsed into a pile of boneless meat, Draco took the opportunity to snuggle with Harry. He held him close and stroked a hand up and down Harry's arm. He even hummed very very softly.

After a while, he tried again: “What's wrong?”

Harry shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “Nothing. It's just... my dad... He might've actually been an arrogant arsehole after all.”

Draco snorted in amusement. “I think  _all_ dads have a bit of that in them.”

This managed to cheer Harry up slightly. He smiled at Draco a bit wryly. “I suppose you would know...”

Draco gave him a flat look for a moment before shrugging. He didn't want to start a fight now for anything short of an actual life or death reason to argue. Both boys simply held each other in silence for so long that they accidentally fell asleep. Luckily, Peeves started making a racket just down the corridor that woke them up.

After a quick kiss goodbye, Harry summoned all his belongings and held them in his arms as he snuck back to his dorm under his cloak. A glance back showed that Draco had managed to get his trousers back on and was working on the buttons of his shirt even as he deftly avoided catching Peeves' attention.

The night before their OWLs, Harry lay awake for hours trying not to think too much about his impending exams. Unfortunately, so was everyone else. When they eventually all dropped off, Harry stared at his left forearm for about five minutes in indecision. Finally, he threw caution to the wind and wrote:  _Are you awake?_

_Thank Salazar! Meet me in the classroom?_

Not needing to be asked twice, Harry grabbed his cloak and rushed off to the same classroom he and Draco had been occasionally meeting in for months now. Draco himself looked almost demonic with a weary red tinge to his eyes. They had barely shut and locked the door when they flung their arms around each other and simply held one another tightly.

Several minutes passed like this before Harry pulled back just enough to kiss Draco. That kiss led to another, which led to another, until they were laying on the plush cushions, completely naked and stroking each other everywhere. Draco took a long time working Harry open, his hands doing a thorough job even as they both kept on kissing.

The very air itself seemed to thicken with anticipation, until finally, Draco moved into position on top of Harry. They moved together slowly for a long time, Draco sliding rather smoothly in and out of Harry even as Harry met him thrust for thrust. Neither were in a rush – perhaps because they knew their time together like this was quickly coming to an end. In practically no time at all, school would be over for the summer, and strangely both had this irrational fear that next year would not be so easy for them to meet as lovers.

And so, they resisted the urge to speed up until both were starting to get drowsy from sheer exhaustion (more from studying than their gentle shagging). Suddenly, they had to speed up and finish or give up and go to sleep. Only thoughts of getting caught in the morning gave them the incentive to finish.

This time, Harry gasped softly into Draco's mouth when he reached climax. Draco moaned, swallowing Harry's gasp and kissing through his own. Happy and utterly relaxed, neither really wanted to move. However, they both knew that they'd easily fall asleep if they stayed curled up, and so, they got up and pulled their clothes on just enough to not break any school rules on their way back to their beds.

But first, just before they opened the door, they kissed each other and murmured: “Good luck.”

That said, of course the moment Harry was called in for his Charms practical exam and Professor Tofty had asked him if he was  _the_ famous Potter, Draco glared at him so hard that he (Draco) lost control of his levitation charm. Which made Harry inordinately pleased, for some reason.

The exams went more or less well, except for McGonagall taking four stunners to the chest. Oh, and Harry falling asleep in his History of Magic exam... and dreaming of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort. Not a dream, a vision! Frantic, Harry urged and loudly  _begged_ Ron and Hermione to help him go rescue Sirius, but it wasn't until Ginny and Luna arrived and offered to help that Hermione relented and came up with a plan to get Harry to Umbridge's office to check on Sirius via a firecall.

Only that went all pear-shaped when Umbridge returned to her office with her Inquisitorial Squad in tow. Millicent Bulstrode had Hermione pinned to the wall, and Draco was smirking even as he repeatedly tossed Harry's wand in the air like a baton – catching it effortlessly. If Harry had had even a second to do so, he would have glared at Draco for – once again – acting like a bastard so effortlessly that Harry had to wonder if it was really an act. After all...

Harry didn't want to think just now how maybe all the times they'd kissed and shagged had been the real act and this was Draco's true self. That was just too depressing to contemplate!

Draco laughed at Umbridge's statement about the castle soon being Weasley free in an odd way that gave Harry hope that he was just flattering her for his own good. It didn't really make Harry feel any better thought. In fact, the more Draco laughed at Umbridge's cruel remarks, the more enraged Harry got – until he was literally shaking from it.

When Hermione lied and convinced Umbridge that they'd finished a weapon at Dumbledore's instructions, Draco looked so eager to get his hands on it, that Umbridge hastily agreed that only Harry and Hermione could show her where it was. Which happily played into Hermione's hands as she was able to lead Umbridge right into a trap – more or less – since the Centaurs were  _not_ happy to have her in their forest.

That said, he was so incredulous and angry at Hermione for coming up with such a reckless plan that nearly got them killed, that he was actually yelling at her when Ron showed up with Neville, Ginny, and Luna. Which despite making Harry extremely frustrated at first, turned out to be a good thing since Luna was the one to remind them that Thestrals were perfect for their current needs.

Harry was in such a mood that he didn't even care in the slightest when he heard that Draco had been hexed by Ginny and was now suffering from Bat Bogeys. At least he had his wand now. The trip to the Ministry was both a fiasco  _and_ a success of sorts. At the end of it, Harry was left heartbroken.

So much so, that the next time he saw Draco – who was  _furious_ that Harry'd gotten his dad arrested – Harry didn't even care that they were both dead serious about hurting or maiming or maybe even murdering one another. Had they not been interrupted by first Snape and then McGonagall, they might really have conducted a rather heated duel until one of them seriously hurt the other.

Harry's last sight of Draco for the year was on the Hogwarts' Express on the way back to London. Draco had  _clearly_ wanted to ambush Harry and punish him for landing Lucius in jail. Harry was basically so upset about Sirius dying – so mad at Bellatrix for killing him, so mad at Lucius Malfoy for leading the Death Eaters on that mission – that he transferred that anger to Draco and felt a sort of perverse satisfaction that all his DA students hexed Draco and his henchmen into oozing slug-like things.

Determined not to think about him, Harry vowed to spend the entire summer forgetting every tender moment the two of them had ever had.

Sixth Year - DLM

The Summer between Fifth and Sixth Year was not exactly relaxing. Draco had to deal with the Dark Lord and several Death Eaters (such as his Aunt) popping in so often that the might as well be living in his house. His dad was in Azkaban, and Draco was supposed to take his place.

He'd been Marked and given an important mission. If he succeeded, he would secure his place in the Inner Circle and redeem his father's mistakes. If he failed, the Dark Lord promised to kill him. In all honesty, he was probably expected to fail – as that would be the ultimate punishment for his father.

Even so, between official meetings to discuss plans and lessons in both Occlumency and Legilimency from his aunt, Draco had a surprising amount of time on his hands. Between his frustration and boredom, he was tempted to write to Harry via their bond, but two things stopped him. One: He was still irate at Harry. And two: He absolutely did NOT want to risk anyone finding out about the bond and using it against him. Specifically the Dark Lord.

That said, something had been bugging him for a while now. When Bella led all the Death Eaters out on a mission to cause mayhem, and the Dark Lord was off looking for something, Draco decided to take a tiny risk. He joined his mother for tea, casting privacy spells around them the moment the elves had served them and been dismissed.

“Mum... Remember how you once told me about you and dad being Soulmates?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, but I _also_ told you that a spell prevents me from talking about it.”

Draco shook his head. “I'm not trying to ask details. I found a book in our library that gave me all the information I think there is on it. Except, well...”

Since he trailed off, Narcissa chuckled a bit wryly. “Oh! If you read about it in a book, then perhaps I actually  _ can _ talk to you about it.”

Draco took a long sip of his tea to give him time to formulate his question  _ carefully. _ “I was just curious about something. What if someone from a nice pureblood Slytherin family – Goyle, for example. What if Goyle found out that HE had a Soulmate who was the complete opposite – such as a person from a poverty stricken muggle family?”

It was Narcissa's turn to take a sip of her tea. “Well, I can't speak for everyone, but a Soulmate Bond is sacred. It's unbreakable and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Perhaps most people, especially in  _ these _ times, would try to break the bond by eliminating the undesirable partner, but not those of us who have and understand Soulmates. I can't speak for the Goyles, but I  _ can _ tell you that if  _ you _ had come to us say three or four years ago, saying that you had been bonded to a vagrant muggle girl, your father and I would have taken steps to help and protect her.”

“You – What?!” Draco exclaimed in surprise.

Narcissa smiled at him, amused by his expression. “These days, we couldn't  _ dare _ do anything openly, but we'd still try to do what we could in secret.” Then she sighed happily and shook her head. “But you don't need to worry about anything like that.  _ Muggles _ can't be Soulmates – or at least not part of this bond. Who knows if they have their own version.”

Draco held up his hands in a silent gesture to give him a moment to think. “But... what if... what if the other partner was a mudblood? Or a...” He faltered, not quite able to say  _ boy _ .

She gave him a sad look. “Unfortunately, if you were going to have a Soulmate, we'd know about it by now. That said, I'm serious in that – among those who have and thus KNOW about Soulmates – the Bond is considered sacred. The other partner could be  _ anyone _ and there's nothing that could be done to break it. Thus, it can only be accepted.”

Draco was still in a state of shock, wondering if it could really be that easy. She may SAY that she'd accept it no matter who it was, but she had no idea... If she knew that it was Harry bloody Potter! Even  _ if _ she accepted it, his father wouldn't and the attempts on Harry's life would probably get worse.

Turning to look out the window, Draco decided to drop the subject completely. He just couldn't admit to having a Soulmate. Ever!

***

As summer wound down, Draco still felt quite a bit of pain from his Mark. He could bear it just fine if nothing touched it, but even the slightest touch sent hot sharp pains shooting through him. Thankfully, he'd seen his mother wearing short sleeves enough over the years that he knew that she didn't have any sort of mark on her from when his father was Marked. A quick read through the information on Soulmates reassured him – prior to receiving his Mark – that only intentional messages got through.

Actually, it hadn't been studied thoroughly enough to know for certain, but from what Beedle the Bard had managed to discern, only the Soulmates themselves could send the messages, except for rare cases when one was incapacitated and a different person had to send a message on their behalf. But as for things like tattoos and scars, or anything resulting from magic – such as a hex leaving a whiplike mark – none of that showed up. This information relieved Draco greatly because no matter how mad he currently was at Harry, he DIDN'T want him to know he was Marked.

Somehow, he thought that if Harry knew, it would be that one thing too far that made him reject Draco once and for all. As much as he wanted to punch Harry hard enough to break his nose, he didn't actually want the two of them to never speak again. Why in the bloody hell did he have to be bonded to the ONE person in the world he couldn't actually be with?! Life just wasn't fair sometimes...

About a month before he was supposed to go back to Hogwarts, Draco finally came up with a workable plan to implement for his official mission for the Dark Lord. The problem was that he didn't want his mother to know the exact details of his mission, nor the things he was going to do to try and fulfill it. Thus, he needed to go shopping on his own. Except that his mother  _ refused _ to let him out of the house without her.

“What does she think is going to happen to me?” Draco muttered under his breath. “The only people out there who would hurt a man like me wouldn't  _ dare _ touch me without His permission once I showed them my Mark.” But he didn't quite have the nerve to say that to his mother with how twitchy she was being ever since his father was sent to Azkaban.

Happily enough, shopping with his mother was always a good experience. She had been raised in a wealthy family just like his father had, and so they were both of the opinion that Draco could have pretty much anything he wanted – with only a few exceptions. So even though they had given him his own vault, when she took him shopping, all he had to do was say he wanted something, and she would buy it for him. All in all, it was rather satisfying.

Except this time, he was just a bit cranky from his Mark hurting, and Madam Malkin kept unknowingly pricking his Mark with her pins. “Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you?!” He yelled after the third time, immediately walking over to a full length mirror simply to get out of her grasp.

When he was looking in the mirror, it took him a moment to notice that Harry was behind him in the entrance of the shop. His first response was happiness to see his Soulmate followed by an immediate urge to punch him in the face. But rather than focus on Harry and give anything important away, his eyes flickered to the other two and narrowed in distaste.

“If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” he informed her. As expected, his mother didn't really react at all.

However, Madam Malkin took offense and rushed over. “I don't think there's any need for language like that!” Then she saw that Harry and his weasel had drawn their wands – probably tempted to hex Draco's mouth shut. “And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!”

Little Miss Know It All whispered: “No don't, honestly, it's not worth it.”

Draco sneered, knowing that Harry loved Hogwarts too much to risk getting expelled. “Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school.” Then sheer curiosity took over. “Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”

Madam Malkin must have thought that offending such a famous customer might have undesirable consequences, because she protested: “That's quite enough! Madam, please...”

Narcissa had probably been quietly snickering over her son's words, but she decided that a show of support was definitely called for. She stepped forward and fixed her cold gaze on Harry and his weasel.

“Put those away. If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”

“Really?” Harry challenged, stepping forward and staring her down. “Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?”

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. “Really, you shouldn't accuse – dangerous thing to say – wands away please!”

But Harry didn't back down and Narcissa smiled unpleasantly at him. “I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you.”

Harry looked mockingly around the shop. “Wow... look at that... He's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!”

Draco tried to leap to his mother's defense, but ended up tripping over the overly long unhemmed robe he was having fitted, which made the weasel laugh much louder than necessary. “Don't you talk to my mother like that, Potter!”

Narcissa – having a lot more practice at taking insults with grace – placed her delicate hand on her son's shoulder. “It's alright, Draco. I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.”

Harry raised his wand higher in a clear threat, but Granger protested, grabbed his arm, and tried to force him to behave. Meanwhile, Madam Malkin wavered for a moment before seemingly deciding that if she acted like nothing was happening, it wouldn't. She tried to resume hemming Draco's sleeve.

“I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear. Let me just –” 

Not looking forward to her sticking his Mark with a pin  _ again _ , Draco preemptively slapped her hand away. “Ouch! Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore!” And with that, he pulled the unfinished robes over his head – exposing the bespoke Armani trousers and crisp white button up shirt he was wearing – and threw them on the floor at the stitch-witch's feet.

“You're right, Draco,” his mother backed him up with a contemptuous glance at Granger. “Now I know the kind of scum that shops here, we'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's.”

As they ceremoniously strode out of the shop, Draco took special care to bang into the weasel on the way out. This tactical retreat was prudent for several reasons: First, it wouldn't do to get into any sort of public fight with Harry in which they might accidentally shout secrets best kept secret at each other. And second, if he stayed around Harry much more, he might give into the temptation to actually punch him. And then snog the bloody hell out of him. And maybe drag him off to a private corner for a quickie under the invisibility cloak. It  _ had _ been a while since he'd last had a good shag – or any stress relief, really.

Over at Twilfitt and Tatting's, Draco's fitting went much more smoothly. He had everything he needed in practically no time. Even better, his mother got thoroughly distracted trying on new dress robes, and then having them fitted. This gave Draco – with a murmured excuse of needing a few minutes in the bathroom – time to slip away.

He furtively rushed to Knockturn Alley, looking over his shoulder several times to make sure his mother wasn't following him. Thankfully, he made it to Borgin and Burkes without his mother catching him. Mr. Borgin wasn't exactly happy to see him, but since Draco's family had spent a lot in his shop, he did his best to seem eager to help.

Draco very quickly informed the man that he'd worked out a plan to fix up a vanishing cabinet that was connected – he was reasonably certain – to the one in the shop. The more Draco talked at first, the more into his explanation he got, even using his hands to illustrate his point. Mr. Borgin went from looking a little interested to strangely resentful. Maybe even a little afraid.

Finally, Draco got to the point. “So, do you know how to fix it?”

“Possibly,” Mr. Borgin said reluctantly. “I'll need to see it though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?”

“I can't,” Draco replied, giving the man a look that wondered how stupid he was. “It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it.”

Borgin licked his lips nervously.

“Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything.”

“ _ No _ ?” Draco questioned with a sneer as he rolled up his sleeve just enough to show off his Mark. “Perhaps this'll make you more confident.”

The expression on Borgin's face turned to pure fear. Draco felt it might be best to state the obvious. “Tell anyone, and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention.”

“There will be no need for –”

“I'll decide that,” Draco cut him off impatiently. “Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep  _ that _ one safe. I'll need it.”

“Perhaps you'd like to take it now?” Borgin suggested, clearly eager to be rid of Draco AND his task.

“No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man! How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it.”

“Of course not... sir.” Borgin agreed, once again reluctant to have anything to do with this potential mess. Draco was certain that Borgin knew that Draco would bring him down too if this plan failed and resulted in the Dark Lord wanting to punish someone. Borgin bowed deeply to a valued if vexing customer. 

“Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?” Draco repeated firmly, just in case the man had been too stupid to catch the warning the first time.

“Naturally, naturally,” Borgin murmured reassuringly with another bow.

Satisfied, Draco did his best to return to his mother before she noticed that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Unfortunately, she was smart enough to see through his excuse and stared him down upon his return. “Where were you?”

Sighing in defeat, Draco considered lying before deciding that he didn't want to know what his mother would do to him if he dared to lie to her. After all, the Malfoys tended to be completely honest with each other at all times. It was everyone  _ else _ they deflected and or lied to when necessary.

“Running an important errand, and that's all I can tell you.”

Pursing her lips in displeasure, she accepted this without comment.

***

Just when it was starting to feel like summer hols would  _ never _ end, it was finally time to go back to Hogwarts and start working on that Vanishing Cabinet. Draco had to keep telling himself that he would fix it in no time in order to stop from going mad. His task hadn't even truly begun and already he wished that he could just get it over and done with.

Once on the Hogwarts' Express, rather than do any sort of prefect duties, he sat in a compartment with about half of his fellow Sixth Year Slytherins. As they chatted on about their respective summers, Draco dropped hints about his mission – but nothing too revealing. After all, absolute secrecy was necessary until he succeeded – otherwise the wrong people might find out and try to stop him.

At one point, Blaise stepped out of the compartment because of an invitation from the new teacher, Slughorn. When he returned, Draco was interested to know what the old bastard had wanted. Even so, a flash of white as Blaise and Greg were tussling while trying to shut the door made Draco wonder if...

Nah, why would Harry sneak into their compartment when the two of them could easily meet up in secret later on? That said, Harry must be as mad at Draco as he was at Harry, because neither of them had written a word to each other via their bond all summer. Maybe it was possible after all that Harry had foolishly risked his neck by sneaking into their compartment and hiding. If caught, the five of them would be able to hex him nastily and claim that they were just defending themselves from his attack. After all, HARRY would be the one coming to them in their compartment – rather than the other way around.

When they were getting ready to leave the train, Greg pulled down his trunk to get his robes, and Draco thought he heard a gasp of pain from the rack. It seemed Harry really did sneak into their compartment. When everyone else was leaving, he told Pansy (who was trying to wait for him) to leave too because he needed to check something. Then he shut the curtain on the door window and made a show of looking through his trunk.

Without warning, he cast a Petrificus Totalus where he thought Harry must be hiding if he was there. Sure enough, a body crashed onto the floor with a loud thunk and Harry was revealed in a comical hunched up position. The sight of Harry made Draco smile.

“I thought so,” Draco stated jubilantly. “I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flashing through the air after Zabini came back...” Draco looked Harry up and down for a moment, his eyes lingering on the white shoes that were likely the culprit. “You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here, just know that as much as I would love for us to take out our stress on each other by fighting or shagging – or both – I'm so damn mad at you for landing my father in Azkaban that – do you even KNOW what Azkaban is like?! ARGH!”

And with that, Draco gave into the urge to break Harry's nose by stomping on it hard enough to do just that. “That's for my father. Now let's see...” he trailed off as he grabbed the invisibility cloak out from under Harry. With it not in use and the inside of it face up, it was clearly visible to see. He tossed it over Harry's body, bloody nose and all. “I don't reckon they'll find you 'til the train's back in London. See you around, Potter... or not.”

Then, before he could give into the urge to kiss him after all, Draco stepped onto Harry's fingers, over his body, and out of the compartment. The entire way into the castle, he was plagued with an urge to go back and drag Harry somewhere private for a much more relieving reunion, but reason prevailed. It was simply safer for both of them if they not only appeared to hate each other, but never risked being seen together when not in class.

Draco couldn't decide whether to be happy or angry when he saw Harry enter the Great Hall for the feast after all. He decided to focus on telling everyone how he'd broken Harry's nose. It was strangely satisfying to relive that glorious moment over and over as he told the story several times. But then Dumbledore stood up to make a few announcements and Draco felt that he'd show less emotion or anything telling if he concentrated on making his fork hover over the table.

***

Draco didn't see Harry again until their shared Defense Against the Dark Arts class the next morning. He sniggered at Snape's jibe at Granger and enjoyed watching the Professor try to hex Harry. That said, he was  _ also _ upset that someone else tried to harm his Harry – even though Snape was probably going to use something benign – and was strangely happy that Harry protected himself so well that Snape was knocked into a desk. It took a bit of effort to keep a straight face through this conversation: 

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing  _ nonverbal _ spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry replied stiffly.

“Yes  _ sir _ ,” Snape corrected in a haughty tone.

“There's no need to call me sir, Professor,” Harry responded cheekily.

Draco had to bite his cheek and look away to stop from smiling. That was just the sort of snarky response Draco would make to someone who deserved a good dressing down. Every once in a while, Draco could see why they were Soulmates after all.

Potions with Slughorn – later that day after lunch – was fairly boring because Slughorn kept fawning all over Harry – and by extension, his friends. Miss Know It All was showing off again, and even telling their very Slytherin Professor that she was muggleborn (she means Mudblood, Draco said to Nott, both sniggering) managed to lose his interest. He was very quickly turning out to be a disgrace to Slytherin House!

A few minutes later, Slughorn announced that the student who produced the best Draught of Living Death would win a tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. Draco snapped to attention, deciding to win that potion. It might just be the thing that helped him accomplish his mission right away! And even if it didn't, it  _ might _ just save him from his fate should he fail. All in all, he  _ needed _ that potion!

In fact, he wanted it so badly that he tried every tactic he could to win over the Professor. “Sir, I think you knew my Grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?”

But rather than warm up in the slightest, Slughorn simply moved on, murmuring: “Yes. I was sorry to hear that he died, although of course it wasn't unexpected. Dragon pox at his age...”

Despite doing his best to follow the instructions as exactly as possible, Draco was disappointed at the end of the lesson when he not only  _ didn't _ win, but that  _ Harry _ somehow had! Glaring, he decided that either Harry cheated somehow, or else Slughorn was seriously biased towards Harry's fame. Either way, he was stuck trying to learn advanced magical furniture repair with basically no help. Sigh...

When September passed and October was in bloom, the Vanishing Cabinet was proving to be so difficult to fix that Draco decided he had to give himself a break and try something else. So, he sent an owl to Borgin and Burkes ordering a cursed opal necklace. It was delivered to him at Hogsmeade and he promptly took it to the Three Broomsticks so that he could Imperius someone into delivering it for him.

That said, since he was smart enough to cover his tracks, he took a circuitous route to having it delivered. First, luck was on his side in that he managed to Imperius Madam Rosmerta. He also remembered to modify her memory slightly so that she shouldn't remember anything except that she needed to also Imperius someone and order them to deliver the cursed opal necklace to Dumbledore as a 'surprise.' Secondly, he ordered Madam Rosmerta to do the deed the  _ next _ Hogsmeade weekend, so that he himself would  _ not _ be in Hogsmeade, and preferably, will have a rock solid alibi.

The only real problem he could foresee is that everyone was being searched by Filch. The caretaker would almost certainly confiscate it from whoever Madam Rosmerta Imperiused. THAT said, Draco still felt that Filch would be required to bring it to Dumbledore, and that if  _ everything _ went exactly right, Dumbledore would open the package and touch the necklace, to his demise.

Alright, so it wasn't a perfect plan, but it had a chance, and that was more than he had with this Merlin cursed cabinet!

A week later, after serving detention with Professor McGonagall, Draco was surprised to see something on his arm when he was changing into his pajamas. Something that sent an undesired thrill through him.

_We need to talk. Meet me in 20 minutes._

Draco had to think this over. He wasn't particularly interested in doing his prefect duties this year, and so, hadn't been patrolling as often as he was supposed to. This was probably why Harry hadn't ambushed him one night to pay him back for the broken nose. No, all his spare time was taken up trying to fix that Vanishing Cabinet.

Still... if Harry was amenable, a little meetup might be just the relief he needed. With that in mind, Draco went into the bathroom for their dorm, and using a self-inking quill, wrote:  _ Alright. I'll be waiting in the same classroom. _

And with that set, Draco spent the next five minutes using a special powder that covered his Dark Mark with a dragon tattoo that couldn't be simply wiped away. Nor could it be ended – like a glamour – with a Finite Incantatum. It could only be removed by a special remover, thus even if Harry tried to wash his arm (or they snuck off to the Prefect's bathroom for an interesting bath), the tattoo would remain.

Twenty minutes later, Draco was just finishing up the little things (like transfiguring a couple of desks into plush cushions) when Harry entered the room, pulled off his invisibility cloak, then shut and locked the door. Draco smirked at him, more than ready to toss aside their differences for an hour or so and just...  _ relax _ ...

Harry seemed to read his mind and shook his head slowly back and forth just one time each. “I only want one thing from you: How did you give Katie that cursed necklace?”

Since this was the last thing Draco was expecting –  _ and _ because he hadn't given Katie anything – Draco blurted out: “What???” In genuine confusion.

Harry gave him a look of disbelief mixed with anger. “A cursed opal necklace. HOW did you give it to Katie?”

Draco smirked. “Actually Potter, the last time I saw that necklace, it was on display in Borgin and Burkes. I swear on my father's life that I did not give it to Katie... Bell? The Seventh Year Gryffindor Chaser?”

Now Harry looked at a loss. “You... didn't give it to Katie?”

“Nope!” Draco confirmed with a smug smirk, because he wasn't lying.

“Oh... I was so sure...” Harry looked utterly lost for a moment. Draco took advantage of this by pulling Harry close and hugging him. Unfortunately, Harry pushed him away. “Don't touch me!”

“Harry,” Draco cajoled. “We have so little time when we can be together without anyone seeing us. Rather than be mad at each other, why don't we just enjoy the time we have?”

“ _ You broke my nose _ !” Harry roared, incredulous that Draco thought he'd want to be amorous after that.

Draco tilted his head to the side in a sort of half shrug. “Oh come now, like you wouldn't break  _ my _ nose if given half a chance.”

“I'll admit I want to punch you every time I think about you, but actually breaking your nose...” Harry trailed off with a shake of his head.

”Alright fine,” Draco stated. “I'll admit that I was so furious about you getting my father caught and sent to Azkaban that I...  _ might _ have taken things a bit too far. But... I  _ missed _ you. I...” Draco turned his head away and covered his face with a hand.

“What?” Harry asked, temporarily too curious to remain mad.

Draco shook his head. Then he sighed. “I'm just really busy this year, so unless we're going to do something productive, I think I'll just go to bed and rest up for...” Again he trailed off and refused to say anything more.

Harry sighed, looking vaguely in the direction of the floor. “I... I suppose...” He suddenly straightened up and looked intently into Draco's eyes. “Alright! You don't have to actually  _ say _ you're sorry; instead, you can prove it by making me feel really good, and then...”

Now curious himself, Draco tilted his head back in a gesture prompting Harry to finish his sentence. “And then what?”

“And then...” Harry hesitated, looking away again. “You can let me top you.”

Draco pressed his lips together to prevent another smirk from giving away his thoughts. If he were honest, he'd agree to anything Harry wanted. “Well... I  _ suppose _ ...”

Elated, Harry threw his arms around Draco and gave him a rather passionate kiss. More than willing to take advantage of Harry's goodwill, Draco grabbed Harry's hips and held him close as their snogging rapidly lit a fire in both of them. Both had too much pride to admit it, but they had missed this; this tenderness they could only show each other when no one else was looking.

Harry abruptly pulled back so that he could strip off in a great rush. When Draco realized that Harry was stripping rather than calling things off after all, he grinned and grabbed his wand out of his pajama pocket to cast a spell that had all his clothes fly off him (and then fold itself and form a neat little pile). The moment they were naked, Harry pulled on Draco as he flopped onto the large cushion.

“Start by blowing me!” Harry ordered.

Since this would make both of them happy, Draco didn't object to being ordered around. That said, just to be a shit, he decided to follow orders in the most teasing way possible. He licked Harry's shaft, pressed little kisses along its rigid length, sucked lightly on his bollocks, and used a hand to slowly pump him without actually trying to get him off.

Harry groaned and enjoyed every moment until he realized that Draco was torturing him on purpose. “I said blow me, damnit!”

Draco smirked at him in a very devilish way. “I know you did, but you  _ also _ said that you wanted to top me. I just figured that you would find the task harder to do if I got you off with my mouth.”

Harry looked only slightly pacified by this. “Hmm... I suppose you have a point.”

Since Harry's wand was presumably across the room with his clothes, Draco picked his up (he had discarded it on the cushion after getting naked) and handed it to Harry to borrow for a moment. “Here,” he said as he rolled onto his back. “Let me teach you all the necessary spells.”

Even so, it took an enormous amount of trust to let Harry practice never before performed spells on him. Thankfully, Harry was motivated enough to get them right on the first try. He was actually really nervous as he pressed into Draco, having never been inside  _ anyone _ before.

But then his brain seemed to melt because everything just felt so  _ good _ ! He paused a moment to reward Draco with a kiss, and then set about trying to find a pace and angle that pleased Draco the most. Draco was more than happy to shift a little here and there until Harry was consistently hitting the magic spot. From then on, it was  _ hours _ of hot and sweaty pounding. Draco had actually orgasmed once and was reaching his second when Harry finally felt that storm of bliss gathering in his spine.

“Oh God!” He gasped out when it hit him. He didn't even feel when Draco dug his nails into Harry's back and ended up leaving about a half dozen lightly bleeding scratches. Draco also bit on his shoulder to muffle the squeals coming from him.

The two of them were content to silently cuddle as they recovered from their glorious orgasms. Draco was holding Harry to him with his right arm, which he was laying on, and Harry absently ran his fingers up and down Draco's left arm. Suddenly, he noticed something that made him sit up rather abruptly.

“You have a tattoo!”

“I love dragons,” Draco murmured, pulling Harry back into his arms. 

“But!” Harry protested, holding Draco's arm and tracing the tattoo with his pointer finger.

“I got that this summer, and I'll tell you  _ yes _ ! It was painful!”

“But you're not even old enough!” Harry pointed out.

Draco shrugged. “He came to our Manor and not even my mother objected, so what did he care about my age?”

Harry was now humming in thought as he examined every millimeter of the dragon. “Hmm... I guess I would have assumed that you'd get a really colorful tattoo of a dragon in Slytherin colors, but this is plain black. That said, it's done in a stylistic way that makes it look really good.”

Draco smiled and forced Harry to look at him so he could kiss him. “I'm glad you like it. I must confess, I've been half obsessed with getting  _ you _ a tattoo that's either my name or my initials, right. about. here.” He caressed Harry's left buttock.

Harry moaned as he was hit with a sudden rush of lust. “Yeah? I could maybe be persuaded... in the future. The  _ very _ distant future. Provided that we ever figure out how to stop keeping our bond a secret. Speaking of, how do you see my writing through that?”

Draco didn't answer for a moment because he was too busy sucking on Harry's nipples to moans of encouragement. “Hmm? Oh, the writing squeezes itself close to my wrist so that I can read it.”

“Huh!” Harry exclaimed, impressed that the bond was smart enough to take tattoos into account. Then he lethargically surrendered to Draco's mouth, which was sucking a path across his chest and abdomen. Until the urge to go to sleep grew almost too powerful to resist. “I should really go,” he said with a deep yawn.

Half of Draco wanted to insist that they keep each other busy all night, but the other half needed all the sleep he could get so he could concentrate on his cabinet shaped problem. “Yeah... I should too, since I don't have a handy cloak to hide me, and I'm probably way past even the Prefect's curfew.”

Harry kissed him and they both got lost in the kiss for a few minutes before breaking apart and helping each other to their feet. As Harry got dressed, he couldn't help but appreciate the sight of Draco pulling on his silky blue pajamas.

“Mmm... You know, I really thought your pajamas were Slytherin green.”

Draco smirked. “Well, some of them are, but I think I look a bit better in blue.”

Harry certainly couldn't argue that at the moment. Draco gave him a quick smooch. Then he frowned a bit.

“Listen, please  _ try _ to remember; I CAN'T be nice to you in public! Especially now that my father's in Azkaban and everyone knows it's because of you. So try not to take it personally if I make fun of you for something stupid over breakfast tomorrow.”

Harry sighed in defeat. “Yeah... I suppose I understand. After all, I've half convinced Ron and Hermione that you somehow slipped Katie that necklace. If I suddenly smiled at you across the Great Hall and said that you had no idea Katie even had the necklace, they'd wonder what got into me. Worse! I might have to explain this whole thing between us!”

Draco felt a pang of dismay, but held his breath until it passed. “I don't think – even with this bond – that we can truly feel anything but hate for each other. If...  _ He _ found out... I don't like to think about what could happen.”

Harry suddenly looked enlightened. “Oh! Yeah... I suppose Voldemort might hurt you to get to me.”

Draco couldn't help but flinch at hearing the name said so bluntly, but he didn't say anything about it.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, kissing Draco one last time. “I'll act like I always do –  _ convinced _ that you're up to no good!”

“Oh...” Draco drawled mischievously. “Of that, you can be certain. I'm  _ always _ up to no good!” He kissed Harry, but before they could become distracted with kissing each other for the rest of the night, Harry pulled back and unlocked the door.

“See you around, Malfoy... Or not.”

Draco wanted to laugh and give Harry a few more kisses, but they couldn't risk anyone seeing them now that the door was open. Besides, Harry was already under his cloak and – presumably – rushing back to his dorm. Happy for the moment at least, Draco swaggered back to his own dorm, crawled into bed, and passed out with a stupid smile still on his face.

***

“You ARE up to something!” Harry accused very shortly after Draco had argued with Snape – which itself was Snape taking advantage of Draco being caught sneaking around and claiming he was trying to crash Slughorn's stupid Christmas party.

Draco had been vaguely stomping toward Slytherin House while hoping that the coast would clear enough for him to get back to that infernal cabinet. Suddenly, invisible hands had grabbed him and hauled him into an empty classroom. Now that the door was locked and Harry had pulled off his cloak, Draco was hoping they might have a fun diversion from his problems.

He smirked in anticipation. “I already told you, Harry, I'm  _ always _ up to something.”

“Yeah, but you said it as a joke. Only now I found out that you're doing something for real, and whatever it is, it's making you look terrible. What ARE you doing?”

“Yeah, like I can really tell you,” Draco sneered dismissively.

“Come on,” Harry said in a cajoling voice. “If you tell me, I'll... I'll reward you with a blowjob every night for the rest of school.”

Draco grinned. “Mmm... tempting, very tempting...”

Harry pulled Draco into his arms and hugged him tight. “Please tell me, I'm just going to do whatever it takes to find out anyway.”

Draco slumped onto Harry, almost knocking them both over. “I really can't tell you. All I can say is that I was told to do something and I HAVE to do it or the people I love will pay the price.”

Harry hummed in sympathy, rubbing Draco's back. “Alright, I'll back off for now, but please consider telling me in the future. Who knows, maybe I'll come up with a way to help you and still manage to stop Voldemort from getting his way.”

Draco relaxed, feeling infinitely better with Harry's arms around him and a promise not to pester him for the moment. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder. A large part of him wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and get some actual rest while Harry was there to protect him from everything.

“Hey, listen,” Harry murmured softly in Draco's ear. “Tomorrow I'll be going to Ron's house and won't be able to see you for a couple of weeks. Let's just... Let me just... make you feel better.”

Draco accepted Harry's tender kiss almost passively for a moment. Inside him was a war over his need for platonic comfort and rest, and his need to shag Harry (and himself) senseless. Until nothing else mattered and he passed out from exhaustion. Suddenly, his passion responded to Harry's kiss by taking over and trying to consume Harry's very soul.

The two of them were almost frantic, tearing at each other's clothes in their haste to be together as soon as possible. The moment they were both naked, Harry cast all the quick prep spells that Draco had taught him on himself. Then he lifted himself onto the nearest desk so that he could pull Draco into him and wrap his legs around him.

Draco wasted no time sinking into that divine warmth, happy to kiss Harry with every thrust. Draco pounded into Harry as if trying to win a race. Harry was seriously into it – especially since with this position, Draco was rubbing his shaft with every thrust. So into it that he started squealing with orgasm in about a minute.

Then Draco pumped him full and literally passed out on top of him. At first, Harry simply thought that he was recovering from an orgasm and its accompanying lethargy, but no. Draco was well and truly out.

In concern, Harry tried to gently pat Draco awake, but that didn't work. He got a bit more forceful, but that didn't work either. Then Harry bit his lip in concern as he wondered if he should bring Draco to Madam Pomfrey. Except... he didn't think that Draco would thank him for taking such a risk when all he probably needed was some good sleep.

Sighing, Harry carefully got them both dressed, casting a lightening spell on Draco so he could dress him like a child. After they were both dressed and had all their belongings, Harry lifted Draco over his shoulder – thankful that the lightening spell made this possible – and then carried him all the way to the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Harry stared at the barren stone wall in indecision, wondering how to actually get Draco to his dorm without a valid password. A whispered “Pureblood” proved that the password had definitely changed since Second Year. Sighing, Harry paced back and forth in indecision. If there had been a portrait or statue guarding the entrance, he could have asked for help, but he doubted that the magical stone wall could respond to anything other than the password.

Never in Harry's life had he been so happy to hear footsteps coming when he was trying to sneak around. He carefully set Draco on the floor in front of the common room entrance, and then stepped off to the side so that he wouldn't be bumped into or tripped over by whoever was coming. His heart sank for a moment when he realized that it was Snape, but then felt grateful again when Snape immediately rushed to check on Draco.

“Exhausted, poor boy,” Snape muttered softly when a Magi-scan showed nothing serious was wrong. “If he'd just listen to me...” 

With surprising gentleness, Snape scooped Draco into his arms and carefully carried him through the entrance door. The entrance must either recognize nonverbal passwords, or else the Head of House never needed to use one, since Snape had said nothing. Harry was disappointed because he was hoping to use the password to sneak in later on to check on (or perhaps spy on) Draco as necessary. Sighing in relief that Draco was being taken care of, Harry jogged back to Slughorn's party just long enough to find out that Hermione had already left.

***

Draco was utterly grateful that the castle was more or less empty during Christmas hols. It gave him the opportunity to basically camp out in the Room of Hidden Things the entire time. Even when he ordered (via message coin) the Imperiused Madam Rosmerta to poison the bottle of her finest Oak-Matured Mead that Slughorn had ordered to give to Dumbledore for Christmas, with a very lethal poison. Unfortunately, nothing he did to the bloody cabinet worked.

In desperation, whenever he needed a break, Draco took to using things hidden in the room – such as a magnificent piano that insulted the player whenever they missed a note – to relieve his stress. In one moment of pure madness, Draco dressed up in a gaudy Victorian whore's costume and sang and danced his little black heart out.

All in all, he was actually sort of happy when the hols came to an end and he was forced to leave the Room for a while. None of the books he had on Magical Furniture Repair were helping, and he had to wait for a few new ones he'd ordered to arrive anyway.

In his next potions class, Draco was determined to take advantage of the small amount of time he had before the books arrived to actually impress stupid Slughorn. Instead,  _ once again _ Harry bloody Potter did nothing at all and received what practically amounted to a standing ovation from their Professor. Draco was so mad that he almost could have spit venom!

And THEN – when they were trying to learn Apparation for the first time – Harry had managed to sneak up on him when he was arguing with Vince. Of his two henchmen, Vince was the one more likely to question Draco, which seriously irked him.

“I don't know how much longer, alright?! It's taking longer than I thought it would,” Draco shot at Vince, ready to wring his neck. When Vince looked like he was going to say something, Draco preemptively cut him off. “Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe. You and Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!”

“I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me,” Harry said pointedly. 

Draco spun to hex him for being an irritation when he was already quite vexed. Harry looked like he was silently daring Draco to tell him what he was actually up to, but before Draco could so much as mutter a hex, the Heads of House all shouted for them to be quiet.

Learning Apparation turned out to be nearly impossible for those who'd never done it before. Like some certain bits of magic, it wasn't necessarily a spell – or even precise wand movements – that performing correctly guaranteed success. But rather, very clear mental focus and a sort of impossible to explain  _ feeling _ that was hard to grasp, but once experienced, made performing the task so much easier.

No one really managed anything – aside from Susan Bones splinching her left leg off – that first lesson, and everyone left feeling dispirited.

Draco spent more and more time in the Room of Hidden Things. He tried every tip in every book he could get his hands on, but whenever it seemed like he might be making progress, something went wrong and he found himself back at square one. His  _ only _ glimmer of levity was watching Vince and Greg Polyjuice into girls whenever he needed a lookout.

As he trudged toward his common room on the night of March First, he heard whispered gossip from nearly everyone he passed that Ron Weasley had nearly died from poisoned wine that morning. Draco winced, NOT relishing the images of what Harry would do to him if he found out Draco was inadvertently responsible for his friend nearly dying.

WORSE! This was the second time that Draco had tried to slip something deadly to Dumbledore without getting caught or letting fingers point in his direction, only for the plan to fail spectacularly. His only real saving grace at the moment was that these things proved that he was trying, which was more than anyone else could do at the moment.

Sighing, Draco wasn't quite certain whether he wanted Harry to ambush him tonight or not. He really expected it to happen, with Harry assuming Draco was guilty without proof – as he had done with Katie Bell. Only he was so mentally exhausted that he really didn't think he could get it up even if Harry was  _ determined _ to molest him.

To both his relief and disappointment, Harry didn't ambush him at all, and it was the weekend before he even saw Harry. It was supposed to be safe since  _ everyone _ had already left for the Quidditch Pitch, but as Draco was leading a resentfully sulky Vince and Greg toward the Room of Hidden Things to be his lookouts, he ran into Harry leaving the castle.

_ Oh sure! _ Draco thought as he gave a humorless laugh.  _ Always around when I don't want him to be, and yet not there nearly enough when I actually want him.  _ Which was typically at night, when Draco couldn't sleep because he kept obsessing over that mother buggering cabinet.

Determined to ignore him, Draco stepped around him, but Harry just HAD to stick his nose in Draco's business: “Where're you going?” He demanded.

“Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's  _ your _ business, Potter,” Draco sneered. “You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for 'the Chosen Captain' – 'the Boy Who Scored' – whatever they call you these days.”

Greg – or at least he thought it was Greg, he wasn't sure which girl was which, to be honest – giggled despite his deep wish not to call attention to himself, then blushed when Harry turned to look at him. Draco took advantage of the momentary distraction to push past Harry and rush off to a nearby hiding place to wait for Harry to move along. Soon enough, he was safely ensconced in the Room of Hidden Things, once again trying everything he could think of to fix this bloody aggravating cabinet.

To his dismay, Harry took to writing a question on his arm every night:  _ What are you up to? _ Determined to NOT answer that question, Draco firmly avoided Harry as much as possible.

That said, he had this unshakable feeling like he was being watched. Nearly everywhere he went, he felt eyes on him, but no matter how much he looked around, he couldn't find a thing. Even so, as the weeks passed, he became dead certain that Harry had figured out  _ where _ he was, although probably not what he was doing. 

One Sunday, Greg was standing guard for him in the form of a little girl again, when suddenly, he (she) shrieked and dropped the scales he was using as a warning, before presumably running off. That was just a warning and not such a concern. What  _ was _ was something that happened a while later. It sounded like someone kicked the wall hard enough to hurt himself and shout OUCH, and then there was a conversation that was muffled due to the fact that it happened on the other side of a thick wall, but was  _ just _ audible nonetheless.

“Harry?”

“What're you doing here?”

“I came here to see Dumbledore.”

“His office isn't here. It's round the other side of the Castle, behind the Gargoyle,” Harry directed

“I know. He's not there. Apparently he's gone away again.”

“Has he? … Hey! You don't know where he goes, I suppose?” Harry wondered.

“No.”

The conversation went on, but Draco had already lost interest in it. He felt SO close to fixing this bloody buggering cabinet. Except that when he sent an object transfigured into a bird through as a test, it returned dead. In other words, he'd failed once again. With a mopey sigh, he lay down on a dusty OLD divan and took a nap.

Increasingly, Draco wished that he could just skive off all classes and more or less move into the Room of Hidden Things. Not even his infrequent breaks to go to the Sixth Floor Boys' Bathroom to cry his heart out to a surprisingly sympathetic ghost named Myrtle truly soothed his rising sense of panic.

On the day that only three students turned up to potions class – the rest of them off taking their Apparation test – Draco mentally kicked himself for not having the foresight to skip this one class. If nothing else, he could have taken a nap and  _ maybe _ had a bit of rejuvenated brain power when he worked on the mother buggering, Merlin cursed cabinet.

Instead, he was instructed to make something...  _ fun... _ Any other year, and he'd have made a poison or something and amused Snape with a joke about slipping it to Harry Potter, but this year, he had no idea what might please their stupid Professor. Nothing in the book seemed remotely amusing at the moment, and so, he decided on a Hiccuping Solution – which actually could be amusing if slipped to unsuspecting victims.

Sadly, Draco was so in need of a nap – and maybe a good meal or two – that he barely managed to follow instructions. His finished potion was merely passable, and probably wouldn't work very well anyway. Not having the energy to care that Slughorn once again favored Harry, Draco simply packed up his belongings and left the moment the bell rang.

Time passed. Near the end of April, Draco exited the Room of Hidden Things to find that after his henchmen had left for curfew, Harry had apparently put on his invisibility cloak and stood waiting for Draco to emerge. For a moment, Draco didn't even care that Harry had dragged him to a nearby classroom; he simply pulled free from Harry's grasp and tried to walk away.

But Harry wasn't having it. “Merlin, Draco! You look terrible! Please tell me what you're doing; I'd rather help you than watch you continue to suffer like this!”

Draco stood there in silence, feeling a bit dead inside. Once again, he'd thought he'd finally succeeded, only to fail. At this point, he was running out of everything – options, choices, things to try, books to use – and his only hope was an extremely rare book on Advanced Magical Furniture Repair. It had taken some time to be tracked down, but now it was on it's way to Draco from some obscure location.

The truly frustrating thing was that Draco understood the principles that the books were teaching him. He actually repaired lots of things in the Room of Hidden Things that had either been stashed there because they were broken, or had stopped working from long disuse. Thus, he  _ knew _ he was  _ capable _ of performing the repair, he just... The  _ cabinet _ just  _ refused _ to be fixed!

“ _ Draco _ ,” Harry begged, rubbing a hand up and down Draco's back. Draco rested his head on Harry's shoulder, but still said nothing. 

Knowing that the classrooms on the seventh floor were rarely used for anything other than group practice and illicit romantic meetings, Harry decided that he could take a bit of a risk. Casting extra spells on the door to prevent anyone – such as Peeves – from hearing them or trying to come into the room, Harry (still holding Draco with one arm) quickly cast a spell to levitate a few desks together. Then he transfigured the lot of them into an actual bed. A big one that was as comfortable as Harry could make it.

With infinite tenderness, Harry pulled Draco onto the bed, settling them both so that – despite being fully dressed – they could actually fall asleep in each other's arms. This was when Draco surprised Harry with a soft kiss.

“Thank you,” Draco murmured.

“For what?” Harry asked in confusion.

“For just being here with me,” Draco replied in a near whisper.

Harry gave Draco a soft kiss in return. “I'm growing worried about you. As much as I want you to tell Voldemort to shove off and leave you alone, I understand that he'll hurt you and your family if you do. Even so,  _ everything _ in me wants to stop you – preferably in a way that isn't seen as a failure on your part by–”

“Don't say his name again,” Draco insisted with a shudder.

Nodding, Harry fell silent, simply holding and kissing Draco. After a while, Draco was far more relaxed. He wasn't exactly full of boundless energy, but he was definitely interested in taking advantage of Harry's willingness to comfort him. Without warning, he used his wand to cast spells to undress them both – which made their clothes fly onto separate desks and fold itself into neat piles.

Happy to discover naked flesh under his hands, Harry caressed everything. He also pressed lots of tiny kisses to places like Draco's neck and shoulders. Soft moaning encouraged him to leave little bruises until Draco almost looked like he'd been pummeled by a hailstorm.

Since Draco seemed too tired to do much more than moan and occasionally caress Harry in return, Harry decided to keep things simple. He pulled back just enough to conjure a bunch of oil into his hand, and then used it to wank both of their shafts together. This seemed exactly perfect to Draco at the moment, and he responded by holding onto Harry and kissing him.

It didn't take long for them to reach their climax. Draco was so pent up that he went first, and that sudden hot addition to their lubrication made Harry shiver in bliss, and then pump out what felt like an ocean. Sighing in a mixture of relief and happiness, the two gave each other a couple more small kisses before curling up and falling asleep.

Except Harry had the presence of mind to do just one thing first: “Kreacher? Er wait, Dobby?”

Both elves popped into the room looking like they'd quite like to murder each other. “Master/Sir called?”

Harry smiled at the both of them. “Listen, I don't care which of you does it, but would one of you pop in and wake us at 6 AM? Er, best make that half 5. I want us both to have plenty of time to sneak back to our dorms before anyone else wakes up and notices we're gone.”

Both elves looked at him and Draco tangled up naked on the bed with an expression like this was the worst thing that could have possibly happened. That said, both promised to follow orders – Dobby genuinely sounded happy to be of service, but Kreacher was as gloomy as ever, probably only agreeing without protest because it meant being of service to Draco.

Satisfied, Harry let himself give into the urge to fall asleep.

Draco was utterly shocked the next morning for several reasons. For one, he'd actually slept through the night. For two, Harry was still in his arms – and they were snuggled up like cherished lovers. Finally, two house elves were staring at him expectantly – one of which was his father's old elf Dobby.

“Er...” Draco droned uncertainly.

“Thanks Dobby, Kreacher,” Harry murmured. “You can both go back to whatever you were doing now.”

“Are you  _ sure? _ ” Both asked in unison. Dobby immediately followed with: “Can I get Harry Potter Sir anything to eat or drink?” Even as Kreacher asked: “How can I be of service to the most honored son of my Mistress' favorite niece?”

Draco couldn't help but chuckle. “Well, I wouldn't mind a cuppa.”

Harry shrugged. “ I suppose tea wouldn't go amiss.”

“At once!” Both elves promised as they popped off to do just that.

Draco felt about a thousand percent better than he had last night. He smiled at Harry and gave him a kiss. “Good morning.”

Harry smiled and gave him a kiss in return. “I had them wake us up at half 5, so we don't have too much time to linger here if we want to get back to our dorms before being caught.”

Draco smirked. “Just enough time to get dressed and have a cup of tea.” But the elves returned just then and it was apparent that they both assumed that tea meant a full service – which amounted to a small breakfast with not just tea, but also croissants with butter and a variety of jams.

Harry and Draco got out of bed reluctantly. Both held hands without even realizing it until they were out of bed (they'd slipped off the end rather than one of the sides), then their hands gently slipped apart like a caress. Draco promptly cast dressing spells that had his clothes flying onto him in an instant.

“Handy,” Harry murmured, sincerely impressed. “What's that spell?”

“Amictus Vestimenta,” Draco repeated for him. 

Harry tried it and it only took three attempts before his clothes did what they were supposed to. Harry rewarded Draco with a kiss. “What's the other spell again?”

“Haven't you used that one on us before?” Draco asked in confusion. 

“Not really, I'm pretty sure I cast a basic intangibility spell, which gets the job done, but your spell makes them fold themselves and everything,” Harry explained.

“Ah. Right. Well, it's Depone Vestimenta,” Draco informed him.

Harry smirked at him. “I wish we had the time to practice these spells several,” but he didn't get to finish his sentence since Draco had grinned, chuckled, and pulled him close for a lingering kiss.

Then he tilted his head toward the trays that had been set on separate desks. Grabbing his wand, he magicked the desks so that they were right next to each other. The boys sat and busied themselves eating and just basically enjoying the quiet time together.

Unfortunately, Draco had to return to reality long before he wanted to. “Listen, Harry, you  _ can't _ wait for me to emerge from the room all the time. You shouldn't even  _ know _ I'm in there!”

Harry sighed in mild frustration. “No,  _ you _ listen! I can't stand seeing you looking increasingly ill! If you can't stop what you're doing  _ please _ let me help you!”

“ _ Harry _ ...” Draco whinged, nearly ready to cry. Then he visibly steeled his resolve and stood up. “You know you can't, so just leave me alone!” He took a step toward the door, but Harry grabbed his arm, making Draco wince because his Mark still hurt at times like this.

“Don't shut me out!” Harry cried fervently.

Draco glared at him. “Aside from our bond, we have no reason to talk to each other. In fact, we have every reason to  _ hate _ each other!”

“I don't hate you! In fact I think I might sort of lo–”

“Yeah?!” Draco cut him off harshly. “Well I don't! Now let me go so that I can get back to my dorm before I'm discovered missing!”

Clearly anguished, Harry let go of Draco's arm and said nothing as he unlocked the door and stomped away. Then, struggling to pull himself together, Harry addressed the silently waiting elves. “Er... boys? You are both forbidden to tell anyone about this. Also.. Will you clean this classroom up and return everything to normal?”

“If I must/I'd be delighted, Harry Potter sir!”

Downing the last of his tea, Harry also left the room, arriving in his dorm just in time to get in bed before everyone else woke up.

***

That night, when Draco finally managed to slip away and go to the Room, he tossed all his things in front of the cabinet and spun to explore the room yet again. In one of the aisles, he found the dressing dummy of a previous student who  _ clearly _ had talent – judging by the clothes on the dummy – when it came to making clothes.

The dummy must have been magicked at some point to help the student, but now he barely had enough magic left in him to murmur a bit when Draco picked him up. Draco carried him over to the piano and – using all his new repair skills – figured out how to return the dummy's ability to talk. As he suspected, it was charmed to spout reassurances and compliments.

Upon further thought, this was probably why he'd been hidden in here – to stop basically flattering his creator. After a moment of admiring the quality of the original spellwork on the dummy, Draco decided to add some more. With a couple of flicks of his wand, he had the dummy perfectly capable of dancing with him – despite having no legs and only one stand on rollers. Obviously, it wouldn't be sophisticated dancing, but still, it would do.

Turning away for a moment, Draco spelled the piano to play itself. Naturally, it was a song that Draco wanted it to play.

When ready, he pulled the dummy into a slow dance that was basically swaying in circles around the small makeshift dance floor.

“I've made up my mind, there is no turning back,” Draco sang when the music reached the right part and the dummy had finished his initial praise of Draco's dancing. “It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do, to look you in the eye and tell you I don't love you. 

“It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to lie, to show no emotion when you start to cry. I can't let you see what you mean to me, when my hands are tied and my heart's not free, we're not meant to be. It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do, to turn around and walk away pretending I don't love you.”

The dummy purred in sympathy. “That's beautiful, luv.”

“Thanks,” Draco murmured, feeling a bit better now that he'd had a bit of rest and a chance to purge his emotions. Now, he was ready to get back to work – magicking the piano to keep on playing various songs to keep him company.

***

Draco was at his wit's end! Not only had the book he was waiting on NOT arrived, but he was now receiving impatient letters from the Dark Lord – which were in code of course – threatening dire consequences if he didn't complete his task soon. Unless that book contained a miracle that fixed that Salazar damned cabinet, he was done. There was nothing more he could do.

It was now May! If he didn't do the job soon, he wouldn't JUST vex the Dark Lord, he'd literally run out of time! In all possible ways!

The prospect had Draco sick to his stomach, and he couldn't eat even when given food. He wanted to just... curl up and go to sleep and never wake up. He wanted to... well...

Instead, he was bent over a sink, wondering whether he'd actually vomit. Worse, he was once again crying pathetically in front of the ghost girl – just because she was sympathetic. Even so, she wasn't the best at comfort.

“Don't...” She crooned softly in response to his crying. “Don't... Tell me what's wrong... I can help you...”

“No one can help me,” Draco muttered, his body now shaking from a combination of hunger, lack of sleep, copious tears, and an urge to vomit that wouldn't quite come. “I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me...”

He gasped as his stomach heaved, and then reflexively gulped when nothing came up after all. A strange feeling of being watched again made him look up. In the mirror, he could see Harry standing there staring at him.

_I should have KNOWN he'd eventually ambush me here! Fuck it! Might as well go out in battle – at least that way, I'll die with honor._

Draco spun around and simultaneously drew his wand to hex Harry. He'd VERY clearly told Harry to leave him alone, and yet, here he was, witnessing Draco at his worst. The two of them had a heated nonverbal duel, both hurling hexes and casting shields in silence except for the crashes and bangs of things exploding and shattering.

And also Myrtle trying to stop them. “No! No! Stop it!” She squealed. “Stop! STOP!”

Not wanting to hurt his beloved – even though he'd lied about it to Harry's face – Draco scrunched up his face and threw himself into a course of action that would seal his fate one way or the other. “Cruci–”

“ _ SECTUMSEMPRA _ !” Harry bellowed from where he'd landed on the floor during a previous dodge, waving his wand wildly.

Draco felt a strange sensation, it was like something hot ripped through him, but at the same time, so much was going on with him not being able to breathe and blood gushing from him, that he couldn't really feel it. It just felt like something had pressed into his chest and was suffocating him. He fell to the water soaked floor and clutched his chest uselessly, trying to get it to work again.

Harry gasped and rushed to kneel by his side. “No! Oh God no! Draco! I didn't... I didn't mean... DRACO!”

As the world seemed to fade, Draco stared vaguely at the ceiling, but still managed to see Harry's grief stricken face hovering over him. His hands were out like he wanted to grab Draco's hand – or perhaps his whole body – but was afraid to make things worse.

Meanwhile, Myrtle was loudly screaming: “MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Draco was strangely at peace. He knew he was dying, and just like he'd hoped, it was at the hands of a respected enemy. Someone who even the Dark Lord could not fault him for losing to. He would die an honorable death, and best of all, all his struggles were now over.

But before he truly had time to think that all through, Snape burst into the bathroom. The Professor must have been trying to find Draco to offer more unwanted help or advice. Or  _ maybe _ he'd simply taken to watching Draco when he had time – under a Disillusionment Charm? That  _ would _ explain why Draco often felt eyes on him when no one seemed to be around.

Snape quickly and repeatedly cast a spell that seemed to stop Draco from actually dying, followed by fixing him up, followed by returning him to his body. Even so, Draco was still about half out of it. He couldn't even protest when Snape lifted him up and helped him toward the door, saying something like: “You need the hospital.”

The moment they were out of the bathroom, Snape cast a lightening spell on him, scooped him into his arms, and practically flew him over to the stairs, down two floors, and into the hospital wing. Draco was still more or less out of it when he was tucked into a bed and Snape explained what happened to him. Madam Pomfrey quickly got to work and Draco fell asleep – probably a magical one brought about by the Mediwitch.

Sometime later, Draco drifted awake enough to realize that his mother was by his side. “My darling boy... I shall  _ murder _ that Potter miscreant when he least expects it!”

Draco moaned softly in denial. “No, mother, please...”

“Oh Draco!” She burst out crying, leaning over him to kiss his cheek. “My darling boy...”

“Listen, you can't murder Harry Potter, and not just because the Dark Lord wants the pleasure,” Draco insisted in a whisper.

“But he nearly murdered you!” Narcissa protested indignantly.

“Mum... he's my Soulmate...” Draco confessed almost silently. “I... I love him...”

Narcissa looked perilously close to tears as she swept Draco's normally gorgeous but currently matted hair out of his face. “Oh Draco...” she whispered emotionally.

Draco closed his eyes and refused to look at her. “I... I wanted him... to kill me...”

Narcissa pressed her face to his chest and cried as silently as possible. Draco simply stroked her back for a few minutes, letting her cry without acknowledging it. When she was able to sit up and compose herself, she took hold of Draco's left hand – since she was sitting on his left side.

“I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Please don't ever think such thoughts again.”

Draco said nothing since it was a promise he didn't think he could make. Faint tickling prompted him to raise the arm that his mother still held the hand of. They both looked at the spot his pajamas – that Madam Pomfrey simply must have spelled him into – revealed above his wrist. Narcissa gently pulled up his sleeve so that they could read what was written.

_I'm so sorry!_

Draco looked at his mother. “It's not like I can respond to him. I'm...  _ We're _ fighting on opposite sides of a war. If I reply to him now, he'll only keep bothering me. … I told him to leave me alone.”

Narcissa looked close to tears again. She stroked his face repeatedly. “Oh love... You shouldn't have to... It's not right... Soulmates should be together – or at the very least, be able to tell the world that they're Soulmates and clearly need to teach each other things.”

“If I did that...” Draco didn't even like to say it.

“I know,” Narcissa murmured, kissing his cheek again. “I know. You  _ can't _ let anyone know. I understand why you didn't tell me sooner; you probably thought I'd be obligated to tell your father – and thus – the Dark Lord.”

Draco shrugged before nodding. Narcissa nodded in return. Once again, she whispered into his ear so that no one could possibly overhear her. “Just know that my loyalty is to you above all others. If it comes to it, I will stand with you – even if you chose to stand with him.”

Draco closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can't... I... If I want to protect Harry as best I can – in the only way I can – I can't ever let the Dark Lord or  _ anyone _ know about our bond. I have to stay away from Harry and do what I'm told.”

“I know,” Narcissa murmured sadly. She rested her head on his chest for a few more minutes, silently praying that she could do anything at all to help and protect him.

The door opened, prompting Narcissa to sit up and glamour them both perfect as Pansy rushed across the ward towards them. “Oh Draco!” She cried as she flung her arms around him. “When I heard what happened! That bloody arsehole! Do you know what his punishment is? It's nothing! A slap on the wrist! He has detention with Professor Snape until the end of the year! Of all the–”

But Narcissa cut her off. “Please Miss Parkinson. While I appreciate your concern for my son, please consider your words carefully.”

“Yes Mrs. Malfoy...” Pansy murmured, just barely managing a tone of contrition.

“Pansy,” Draco managed a weak smile. “I'm sorry if this disappoints you, but I'm really very tired. I was just about to ask my mother to leave. Do you think...?”

Pansy looked hurt, but nodded in understanding. “Of course. Of course you're exhausted. I'll go for now, but I'll be back in the morning.”

Narcissa stood up. “I'll go too. Please, my love, please just rest and get better as soon as possible.”

“I will,” Draco promised, and since he was going to be stuck in the hospital wing until he was fully healed anyway, it was a promise he intended to keep. The two women left him in peace. Madam Pomfrey came over to check on him, but seeing that he was going back to sleep, let him be.

A few hours must have passed, because when Draco drifted awake again, it was to find Harry holding his hand.

“Oh Draco!” Harry gasped out, his eyes so watery that Draco couldn't tell whether he'd already been crying for a while, or if the tears had just now been gathering and hadn't had a chance to fall yet.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Draco asked with a hint of impatience.

“I nearly  _ killed  _ you!” Harry wailed as quietly as possible so that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't come running. A glance in that direction showed a glow that suggested that Harry had cast a privacy spell on her door. Unknown to either of them, Snape lifted his head off the back of the chair he was snoozing on in the darkest corner. He watched them with suspicion, ready to hex Harry if he did  _ anything _ even slightly offensive.

“Don't,” Draco stated preemptively. “I don't need your apologies. What I  _ need _ is for you to leave me alone and pretend like we have nothing to do with each other.”

This had the exact opposite effect. Instead of leaving, Harry threw himself onto Draco's chest and hugged him tight. Draco stiffened for a moment, knowing that the best thing – the  _ right thing _ was to push Harry away. But then he relaxed and held Harry too.

Harry shifted to give Draco a soft and tender kiss. They simply kissed each other for long enough that it would have turned heated, except Draco chuckled ruefully. “Sadly, I'm in no condition to do anything even if I wanted to – which, I kind of do.”

Harry laughed softly and gave him another kiss. “I could always do my best to make you feel better.”

“Mmm... Tempting,” Draco admitted before shaking his head. “I'm sorry, but as much as you want to make it up to me, I just can't risk anyone coming in and seeing us together. AND! You  _ can't  _ just write messages to me! What if Madam Pomfrey had just so happened to lift up my sleeve to check my pulse or something?”

Harry pouted but refused to back down. “I had to apologize! And I knew that there'd be too many people around to visit you in person–”

Draco cut him off by wiping a hand over his face. “Merlin Harry! If you so much as  _ walk by _ this place while I'm in here, word will get back to  _ Him _ !”

Harry sighed. “I know. I know it's not safe for us to be together. I  _ know _ that if anyone so much as suspected that we might have something between us – let alone a Soulmate Bond – they could use that information to have us  _ both _ used against each other, but...”

Draco sighed. “Look Harry, it's getting harder and harder for me to switch back and forth. I  _ need _ to do something very important or else I'm already dead and just haven't lay down in my grave yet. Yet when I'm with you, I just want to say fuck the world and stay in your arms – and honestly, if my parents weren't being used as collateral to ensure my highest motivation, I'd probably do exactly that. If I took your hand, would you run away with me?”

“Yes! I've said it over and over that I want to help you so that you can stop looking so worn out and sickly! Just tell me what to do and I'll do it!” Harry vowed rashly.

Draco smiled at him. “Then please just leave me alone and let me get on with it. At this point, I'm almost certainly going to fail, but at least I'll know that I gave it my very best.”

Harry roared softly in frustration. “Argh!  _ Why _ won't you just tell me?! WHY won't you let me help you?!”

This made Draco glare. “Don't be a moron, Potter! You  _ can't _ help me help the Dark Lord! YOU'RE THE BLOODY CHOSEN ONE!”

“SO?! Helping  _ you _ will help me defeat Voldemort!” Harry insisted mulishly.

“ _ HOW??? _ ” Draco cried in bafflement.

“Because I'll know what he's planning, and I'll be able to come up with a plan to stop him. Or rather, Dumbledore will.”

“Yes, because I want the Dark Lord to know that I've betrayed him to you. Absolutely not! Stop being so profoundly stupid!”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his weight on one hip. “Why don't  _ you _ stop being so bloody stubborn?!”

Draco sighed again, knowing that this would get them nowhere. He held out a hand to Harry. “Shut up and come here. It'll be a tight squeeze, but you can lay here next to me until I fall asleep, but Salazar help you if you fall asleep next to me and get caught!”

Pouting but not willing to pass the offer up for love nor money, Harry slipped into bed with Draco. He carefully rearranged them both until they were on their sides holding each other tight.

“I really am sorry,” Harry murmured apologetically, giving Draco several tiny kisses.

“I said shut it,” Draco hissed, stopping Harry from saying anything by kissing him. A few moments later, the healing magic that Draco was still under the influence of kicked back in and made him pull back. “Shh... I'm sleepy...”

“Draco?” Harry whispered. “I think I–”

But Draco pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet Harry, I'm already half asleep.”

“But I–”

“Shh...”

Sighing in frustration, Harry kissed Draco one last time before slipping out of bed. “Good night Draco, sleep well and get better, damnit.”

“I will, I promise. Harry? Will you please do your best to forget about me?”

“Never,” Harry whispered with a determined shake of his head. “But I  _ will _ leave you alone. Just remember, if you ever need me – for anything at all – all you need to do is write asking for my help, and I'll drop everything.” Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's left forearm.

Draco really was half asleep, even so, he murmured: “I hate you Harry.”

Harry gave him a tiny half smile. “I hate you too.” With that, and one last  _ last _ kiss, Harry left the hospital ward.

Draco felt it more than heard it when Harry left. He lifted his head just enough to look, and then lay back down. Stroking his left forearm – under his tattoo glamoured Dark Mark – he murmured: “It's not true, I love you, but what good does that do me?” Sighing, he shifted until he was more comfortable, and then really did drift off.

Still shrouded in the darkest shadow of the room – which was only lit by the moonlight streaming in through the windows – Snape stroked his chin in thought. If Harry ever managed to win the war, these two  _ might _ just have it in them to heal the Wizarding World of its lingering hate and prejudice. And after all these years of being caught between the two sides, Snape actually rather hoped they could manage it.

Thoroughly uncomfortable, but now more or less certain that Harry wouldn't come to attack Draco again, Snape silently rose from the chair and returned to his quarters.

***

Even laying in the Hospital wing a few days later – on Sunday, the day after the eventful Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – Draco managed to hear the rumors. About Harry. Dating Ginny Weasley. He sighed in defeat because even though he knew it was for the best for them to go their separate ways, it just seemed like Harry had moved on a bit  _ soon _ . 

Still... It seemed like this would be the perfect incentive for Harry to leave Draco alone. Draco covered his face with his pillow and pretended to be sleeping so that no one who came in to visit him would disturb him. Nor see the strange dampness on Draco's pillow.

***

Draco stared at the bird in shock. It was alive! It had gone through to Borgin and Burkes and returned... ALIVE!!!

He had done it! It worked! Draco had succeeded! This news was enough to have him shouting in glee and dancing all over the place. His mood wasn't even dampened when that imbecilic Divination teacher walked in and nearly caught him, but he managed to get behind her and evict her from the room before she even had a chance to see him there.

He now wished he had a miniature feast and a bottle of Albari ñ o to celebrate with. For a good twenty minutes, he ran around singing and dancing and just generally partying. The only thing that could make this occasion any better was if Harry could give him a passionate congratulations kiss. Or shag.

Still, whooping: “I did it! I did it!” He swept the dressing dummy into a somewhat lively dance that was gratifying in that the dummy was more than happy to praise him: “Well done, good on you, I knew you could do it!”

So, between 20 and 30 minutes later, when he suddenly got a message from Madam Rosmerta on his communication coin saying that she had just seen Dumbledore on his way to get a drink, he  _ knew _ that luck was on his side and it was  _ finally _ time. He quickly used the Vanishing Cabinet to step through to Borgin and Burkes so that he could send word that it was time to enact the plan.

Although he would admit – silently to himself, in his head – that he was beyond grateful that the bloody cabinet worked on humans too, and not just an extremely lucky bird.

Back in the Room, Draco already had all the things he needed to implement the plan. After all, he'd had almost all year to fine tune and refine it, and he'd been carrying the supplies with him so that he couldn't be caught off guard should things finally work out. Thus, once the Dark Lord had summoned everyone via his Marks (which Draco hissed as his burned unbearably for a few moments) and they had come through the cabinet, Draco was ready to lead them.

He quickly told them the plan and gave them their orders, more than a little smug that the Dark Lord had specified that Draco was in charge and that they were to listen to him and – more importantly – NOT get in his way as HE did what he was supposed to. Still, as confident as he was that he could lead anyone through anything – having superior blood to almost everyone here (especially that mangy Greyback) – it was one thing to lead them and quite another to actually do the deed.

As planned, Draco opened the door and stepped out by himself – already holding his Hand of Glory – and saw that his suspicion was right. Some of the more interfering students were loitering in the hall as if waiting for him. Not deterred in the slightest, Draco tossed out some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, then led his people through it by the light his Hand of Glory provided him alone.

This was an excellent start to the plan. As soon as they were relatively clear, one of the minions was sent ahead to cast the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower in order to attract Dumbledore's attention and prompt him to return sooner than he'd planned to. Even so, with the sudden arrival of several extra people who didn't even belong in the castle at the moment, plus a couple of other students, they had a job of standing their ground.

Draco's plan actually relied on them holding the area at the bottom of the stairs to the Astronomy Tower and as much of the corridor as possible, so that they could get the job done and have a relatively secure exit route. Unfortunately, a bit of a fierce battle broke out as the Death Eaters tried to protect their plan and the others tried to protect the school from them.

Draco stood toward the back in relative safety since he was in charge and he was basically overseeing the battle. It would be up to him to stop the Death Eaters from disobeying any direct orders from the Dark Lord, otherwise he was more or less expected to just let them get on with it. Which he did, despite being repulsed by Greyback's methods – which left at least one body to step over – until he heard something that sounded like someone landing on the tower.

Suddenly, half excited and half terrified, he ran up the stairs, casting an Expelliarmus the moment he burst through the door. After seeing Dumbledore's wand going flying over the rampart, Draco took a careful look around.

“Good evening, Draco,” Dumbledore greeted pleasantly enough.

Staring at TWO brooms, Draco was instantly suspicious, even though no one else seemed to be there.  _ Surely _ Dumbledore hadn't brought Harry  _ out drinking _ with him?!?! But if Harry was here somewhere under his invisibility cloak, he almost certainly would have disarmed Draco by now. 

Even so, he had to be sure: “Who else is here?”

“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?” Dumbledore wondered.

Draco stopped staring at the brooms – reasoning that Dumbledore  _ could _ have brought a spare on the off chance that he'd need to grab someone (such as Harry) and make a hasty escape – and looked back at the Headmaster who was currently looking rather worse for the wear.

“No... I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight,” Draco informed him.

“Well well,” Dumbledore murmured in a tone that almost seemed to praise his student. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

Despite every cell in his body  _ screaming _ at him to just get it over with – making him pant uncontrollably – Draco was grateful for the way that Dumbledore was trying to distract him, giving him any flimsy excuse to delay the inevitable. “Yeah. Right under your nose and you never realized!”

“Ingenious,” Dumbledore complimented. “Yet... forgive me... where are they now? You seem unguarded.”

“They met some of your guards. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long...I came on ahead. I – I've got a job to do,” Draco admitted, trying to bolster his nerve to actually DO the thing.

“Well then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” Dumbledore encouraged softly.

Draco stared at him a bit incredulously for a moment. Did the man  _ know _ what he was telling Draco to do. More importantly,  _ why _ wasn't his hand and mouth cooperating with his need to cast a simple yet deadly spell?

After a moment, Dumbledore smiled. “Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.

Those words rankled! “How do you know?” He demanded almost petulantly. The fact that he sounded a bit like a precocious child made Draco flush in embarrassment. “You don't know what I'm capable of,” he insisted in an attempt to regain his confidence and control of the situation. “You don't know what I've done!”

“Oh yes, I do,” Dumbledore assured him mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying – with increasing desperation – to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts... So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it.”

“It has been in it!” Draco yelled vehemently. “I've been working on it all year, and tonight...” There was a muffled yell from the castle that caught Draco's attention for a moment, making him brace himself even as he looked over his shoulder.

“Somebody is putting up a good fight,” Dumbledore remarked conversationally. “But you were saying... yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which I admit, I thought impossible... How did you do it?”

But Draco was too busy trying to determine if any of his lackeys were close enough to force him to actually do what he was supposed to do.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore suggested, almost encouragingly. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don't really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

Draco turned to stare at him. The brilliant old codger was barmy if he thought for one second that Draco believed him truly defenseless. He'd bet a vault full of gold that Dumbledore could cast spells both nonverbally  _ and _ wandlessly – and do so before Draco even managed to get out half the Unforgivable Killing Curse.

“I see,” Dumbledore said kindly after a moment of stillness. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I'm not afraid!” Draco snarled, silently adding:  _ of that _ ! “It's  _ you _ who should be scared!”

“But why?” Dumbledore asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

The mere reminder of everything he'd been through this past year almost made Draco vomit, but he managed to hold it down. After gulping and several deep breaths – all while glaring and keeping his wand aimed at Dumbledore's heart to illustrate how deadly serious he was – he answered the question. Almost compulsively.

“I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.”

“Aaaah,” Dumbledore half groaned, as if mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that possibility. He even closed his eyes as if visualizing doing exactly that. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“In Borgin and Burkes,” Draco confirmed. “And they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on in the school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him. … In the end, he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant – even Borgin didn't know – I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one.”

“Very good,” murmured Dumbledore. “So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you... A clever plan, a very clever plan... and – as you say – right under my nose.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed, strangely chuffed. He almost smiled! “Yeah it was!”

“But there were times,” Dumbledore speculated. “Weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands... poisoning mead there was only the slightest chance I might drink...”

“Yeah, well, you still didn't realize who was behind that stuff, did you?” Draco asked defensively, because in his eyes, it wasn't crude or badly judged to use such roundabout methods if it meant that there was no evidence pointing in his direction when all was said and done.

Dumbledore was occasionally sliding bit by bit down the wall he was leaning against. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said. “I was sure it was you.”

Draco was nearly floored by the surprise – and also, strangely upset. Almost  _ angry _ ! “Why didn't you stop me then?!”

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders–”

“He hasn't been doing  _ your _ orders, he promised my mother–” 

“Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but–” 

“He's a double agent, you stupid old man! He isn't working for you, you just think he is!”

“We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape–” 

“Well, you're losing your grip then!” Draco sneered, having come to thoroughly dislike the way Snape had been hovering over him this past year. “He's been offering me plenty of help – wanting all the glory for himself – wanting a bit of the action – 'What are you doing?' 'Did you do the necklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything' – But I haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Requirement; he's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and he won't be the Dark Lord's favorite anymore. He'll be nothing compared to me, nothing!”

“Very gratifying,” Dumbledore agreed. “We all like appreciation for our own hard work, of course. But you must have had an accomplice, all the same... someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was able to slip Katie the – the – aaaah...” Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded. “... Of course … Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?”

“Got there at last, have you?” Draco taunted, feeling impressed with himself that he'd  _ genuinely _ been at least one step ahead of Dumbledore in something. A really loud yell caught his attention, reactivating his nervousness and rising panic.

“So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered the room unaccompanied? And the poisoned mead... well, naturally, Rosmerta was able to poison it for you before she sent the bottle to Slughorn, believing that it was to be my Christmas present... Yes, very neat... very neat... Poor Mr. Filch would not, of course, think to check a bottle of Rosmerta's. Tell me, how have you been communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communications in and out of the school monitored.”

“Enchanted coins,” Draco replied, still glad for an excuse to delay the inevitable. And besides, it was probably better to have witnesses to prove he actually did it. With the way the Headmaster looked at the moment, an examination of his body could actually clear Draco of the crime even if he did it. What the hell had happened to him anyway??? “I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages–”

“Isn't that the secret method of communicating the group that called themselves Dumbledore's Army used last year?” His voice light and conversational despite slipping a bit lower down the wall.

“Yeah, I got the idea from them,” Draco admitted with a smile, once again happy to have a chance to explain how brilliant he was. “I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger as well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions.”

“Please do not use that offensive word in front of me?” Dumbledore ordered politely.

Draco harrumphed a laugh. “You care about me saying Mudblood when I'm about to kill you?”

“Yes, I do,” Dumbledore stated even as his feet slid a little bit more. “But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now; we are quite alone; I am more defenseless than you can have possibly dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...

Draco had a sudden and unpleasant gush of bile rise up into his mouth to have it pointed out to him so bluntly that he was blatantly reluctant to commit murder.

“Now, about tonight,” Dumbledore went on as if not even noticing Draco's existential crisis. I am a little puzzled about how it happened... You knew that I had left the school? But of course! Rosmerta saw me leaving; she tipped you off using your ingenious coins, I'm sure.”

“That's right,” Draco confirmed. “But she said you were just going for a drink, you'd be back...” To be honest, when he'd first got the message, he'd been more than a little afraid that the Headmaster would have his drink or two and be back before Draco even finished gathering up his small army. Thankfully, that drink – probably  _ not _ actually a drink – that  _ errand _ had taken long enough that Draco had time to get everything together and  _ still _ had to enter into a bit of a battle before Dumbledore showed up. What  _ had _ taken him so long?

“Well, I certainly did have a drink... and I came back... after a fashion,” Dumbledore mumbled humorously. “So you decided to spring a trap for me?”

“We decided to put the Dark Mark over the tower and get you to hurry up here, to see who'd been killed,” Draco explained. “And it worked!”

“Well... yes and no... “ Dumbledore said. “But am I to take it then, that nobody has been murdered?”

“Someone's dead,” Draco nearly squeaked without his permission. “One of your people... I don't know who, it was dark... I stepped over the body... I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way...”

“Yes, they do that,” Dumbledore said in a tone that suggested he was laughing.

Sounds indicated that people were now fighting on the actual stairway, thus getting closer than ever.

“There is little time, one way or another,” Dumbledore reminded him unnecessarily. “So let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“ _ My _ options!” Draco cried out incredulously. “I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you!”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me; you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

“I haven't got any options!” Draco snapped angrily, now feeling like he might faint. “I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” Dumbledore sympathized. “Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you.”

Draco couldn't help but wince at the sound of the name, not even despite the fact that he was more or less expecting it, since it was well known that Dumbledore was too cocky to fear saying the name.

“I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you,” Dumbledore continued. “But now at last we can speak plainly to each other... No harm had been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived... I can help you, Draco.”

“No you can't,” Draco muttered, his hand – and to a lesser extent – his entire body shaking because he so very much wanted to believe him at this point, however, his very life and those of his parents  _ depended _ on him remaining loyal to the bitter bitter end. “Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice.”

“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe for the moment in Azkaban... When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer...” Dumbledore cajoled in a surprisingly calm voice considering that he could barely stand on his own two feet by this point.

Draco stared at him, tempted – oh so tempted – by the promise. That said, he knew it would come at a high price. A very high price. He may be alive and safe from the Dark Lord (for at least a little while, no good thing lasts forever), but he and his entire family would be trapped –  _ imprisoned _ – in whatever safehouse they were crammed in. Would that  _ really _ be considered living? It just... wasn't possible. Nothing more than a wishful dream.

“But I got this far, didn't I?” Draco pointed out in a slow voice. After all, his mission was all but done. Why would he risk screwing everything up now? Once he got on with it – preferably with witnesses to verify that he actually did it – the Dark Lord would put him and his father back on top where they belonged. Their life may not be perfect – having to serve the Dark Lord in any capacity he chose – but at least they would have power and a certain amount of control. Not to mention their wealth and inherent luxury. It was far too much to give up, especially now when he was  _ so close _ . “They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... You're at my mercy...” Draco rambled, not quite sure which of them he was trying to convince.

“No Draco,” Dumbledore denied quietly. “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

At that, the unmistakable sound of confidence – of absolute and unshakable belief that what he was saying was right – Draco faltered. His wand lowered just a bit. He was beginning to run out of lies to tell himself about why he was waiting. He was beginning to have hope that maybe he  _ could _ escape his fate. That Dumbledore could protect him and his family. That...

Suddenly footsteps thundered nearer until a quartet of his minions burst through the door. From this point on, there was a lot of bickering over Draco getting on with it or stepping aside and letting someone else doing the deed. Only Antonin Dolohov MUST have been ordered to ensure that Draco – and Draco alone – do it, because he kept stopping others – such as Greyback – from impatiently doing it themselves.

Draco said nothing until he was accused of inviting a highly dangerous werewolf with a taste for children into a  _ school _ containing his friends. “I didn't... I didn't know he was going to come...”

Greyback was more than happy to cut in and assure them all that he was more than willing to come along uninvited – wouldn't pass up the chance in fact. However, considering Draco's clearly wavering resolve, the other Death eaters were happy enough to pass the time with insults and taunts. Until all of them lost their last bit of patience and snapped at him to do it or stand aside.

It was at that moment that Snape burst onto the scene, and after a little pathetic begging from Dumbledore, simply cast the Unforgivable Killing Curse. He was so clearly in command (being the Dark Lord's favorite minion, more or less) that not even Greyback nor Dolohov tried to protest.

Then – before Draco could even wrap his head around what had happened, despite staring at the falling body in horror – Snape grabbed Draco by the back of the neck and insisted that he run away before the other side caught onto what had happened and tried to stop them. Sure enough, by some miracle, the so called good side thought they were on the run from the Death Eaters, and the Death Eaters themselves knew that Draco was in charge, and so, no one at all attempted to stop them from running away.

Very dimly, Draco was aware of Harry chasing after them. Of Harry racing through the battlefield casting spells left and right as no one was quite quick enough to register his unexpected presence in time to truly stop or delay him by more than a couple of seconds.

Draco felt like he was running for hours or even days. Somehow, he managed to keep going rather faster than he thought possible, even when his body – which had not been exercised very much this year – protested this unreasonable demand on it so suddenly. Through the pain knifing through him, Draco ran and ran and ran until finally, he reached the gates. There was a spot just outside the school grounds that seemed to glow in his vision like a beacon, as if it was saying that if he just reached that spot, he would be safe.

The moment Draco ran onto that spot, he turned to look back; Snape was currently locked in a duel with Harry. Oh Harry... Draco half reached out toward his Soulmate before stopping himself. Now was NOT the time to throw everything away. He still had to be absolutely  _ certain _ that the Dark Lord was satisfied with his actions and was not planning to harm his parents. Feeling strangely gutted, Draco turned on the spot and Apparated away – despite not having taken the test to get his license. He'd managed to learn the skill and used it now.

Upon arriving in his ancestral home, Draco dropped to his knees in relief. There – on his hands and knees – he panted and heaved and really thought he was going to throw up for so many reasons, until his mother stroked his back soothingly with one hand even as she cast cooling spells over him with the other.

“Oh my love, my darling boy, you're home now, you're safe...” She pulled him into her arms, not caring in the slightest that other Death Eaters were appearing all around them as they managed to escape the Castle.

“May I assume by your sudden arrival that you were successful?” Lord Voldemort asked in an almost sympathetic tone, that clearly held a deadly edge to it.

“Yes!” Draco gasped out between the heavy panting that still wracked him. “It's done! He's dead!”

Plainly surprised despite having ordered no less, Voldemort turned to Dolohov. “Is he?”

Dolohov both nodded and shrugged. “Well, yes. Dumbledore IS dead. However, young Malfoy here, despite leading the mission rather well, seemed to falter at the last moment, and so, Snape burst onto the tower and cast the curse before any of us could really do anything to stop him. To be honest, I didn't think he had it in him, and so, it didn't really occur to me to intervene.”

“Hmm...” Voldemort hummed in thought. “Still... This is a victory. Well done Draco. Well done  _ everyone _ .”

At this point, Snape himself must have managed to win his duel, because he arrived, also panting. He immediately dropped to one knee before Voldemort. “It's done, my Lord. As I have told you for many years, Dumbledore's trust for me would be his undoing.”

“Yes,” Voldemort murmured vaguely, his mood elevated enough that he felt generous. “I think this calls for a celebration. Narcissa? Order your elves to serve us up a feast.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she murmured obediently, finally deciding the time was right to stand and help Draco to his feet.

Draco had no idea how he made it through the rest of the celebration, but he managed it somehow. Then eventually, he was allowed to go to bed and get some rest. His mother promised him that he wouldn't be doing anything stressful until he stopped looking so thin and malnourished. Grateful, he kissed her on the cheek and vowed to stay in bed unless he absolutely HAD to leave it.

Year Seven _–_ Still Draco

Life was fairly tense all around. The Dark Lord had officially named Malfoy Manor his headquarters and moved in. He had insisted that the wards on the front gate – at the very least – be keyed to the Dark Mark, so that Death Eaters of the Inner Circle could come and go as they pleased. Although no one quite dared to do so without official business.

Official meetings were held frequently and all of the Malfoys – Lucius had been freed from prison as a reward for Draco's good service – felt like unwelcome guests in their own home. One meeting in particular, a little over halfway through July, upset Draco more than he cared to admit, although probably everyone already knew it.

During the meeting, the Dark Lord had humiliated the entire family, inviting the other Death Eaters to laugh at them. He ordered Lucius to hand over his wand – which he reluctantly did – and then taunted Bellatrix with the news that her niece (Nymphadora Tonks) had married Remus Lupin. He'd finished the whole thing off by asking Draco if he planned to babysit the cubs.

For one insane moment, he thought that the Dark Lord was threatening to have him bitten and he looked to his father to see if he was right. His father was steadfastly ignoring all humiliation by staring into his lap. His mother shook her head at him almost imperceptibly before resuming her deadpan staring at the opposite wall. Perhaps because Draco hadn't truly responded, the Lord grew bored and called an end to the laughing.

After hinting to Bellatrix that she'd have a chance and a requirement to kill her niece and husband if possible to prove her loyalty, Bellatrix practically sighed with relief and promised that it would be done as soon as possible.

Then all their attention turned to a woman floating upside down over the table. She had displeased the Dark Lord by not only teaching Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, but also by writing an article for the Daily Prophet encouraging the Wizarding World to not just accept and tolerate muggleborns (and even muggles), but ALSO marry them and have children.

To emphasize his point that this was absolutely not allowed, the Dark Lord murdered her with an Avada Kedavra, and then fed her to his enormous pet snake. Despite expecting that both of these things might happen, Draco was startled enough by it happening literally right above and in front of him, that he fell out of his chair.

Judging by the looks of those who would look at him (several others had actually jumped back in their seats), he was being pitied for being so young, but also, it seemed like they all knew that it was only a matter of time before he grew accustomed to such things happening.

***

On August first, Yaxley's plan finally succeeded and the Minister for Magic was dead, the Ministry had fallen to the Dark Lord's control, and they'd learned a great deal about the security protections put on all the places where Harry Potter might be hiding. The most likely of which was the home of the Weasleys, which was currently hosting a wedding.

Voldemort was quite pleased to be able to send off a party to raid the place and 'pay his respects to the happy couple.' Thankfully, Draco and his parents were still in a sort of limbo in which they were considered some of the higher ranking Death Eaters, and yet... weren't. Thus, they were all kept home for this mission, especially since Lucius' wand had been destroyed when the Dark Lord had tried to use it to kill Harry a week ago.

Draco was a bit torn between being relieved that he hadn't been sent out to lead a rampage on more or less innocent people, and being upset that he was being kept rather close to the Dark Lord's side. That said, it seemed as if Voldemort had taken a bit of a liking to him, personally teaching him things and expecting him to perform the duties of his right hand man. For example, when Dolohov and Rowle returned to report that they'd had Harry Potter and his two friends practically in their grasp, only to be defeated leading to their escape. Draco was responsible for performing the Cruciatus Curse on them to the Dark Lord's satisfaction.

Draco began by being so afraid of the Dark Lord turning against him that he did not dare hesitate, but by the end of it, he'd gone a bit numb. Slowly, his emotions were being placed in a box so that he could focus on the job he was told to do.

To Draco's profound relief, practically the first thing that Voldemort had done upon taking over the Ministry was to pass a decree in which ALL students must return to Hogwarts – which included Draco. It seemed he would have a little freedom after all, the catch being that he was supposed to help Snape keep control over the students. Snape was named Headmaster and Draco was once again placed in the role of right hand man – as Head Boy (Pansy was Head Girl)  _ and _ something very like the Head of the Inquisitorial Squad he'd been part of in Fifth Year.

Still, it was vastly better than being the Dark Lord's top enforcer. Or maybe personal enforcer since the technical top enforcer was frequently sent out to enforce things on the public in general. Draco was doubly glad since Bellatrix had somehow wormed her way into their Lord's good graces and was nauseatingly his lover... and there had been hints that someone as young and practically still innocent as Draco would make a good toy for their amusement.

Draco  _ shuddered _ to contemplate  _ any _ meaning of that statement.

***

That night, Draco fell into his bed in exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to pass out and never wake up. To his surprise, there was a very faint tickling on his arm.

_Are you okay?_

Draco cautiously took a good look around his room in case a fellow Death Eater – or his Aunt – was sitting in a chair waiting for him to return. Seeing no one, and now suffering from paranoia that someone was lurking in his room under a Disillusion Charm, Draco relaxed just enough to summon his self inking quill.

_Physically, I suppose._

A moment later, both sentences disappeared and a new one formed.  _ I want to say I'm sorry, even though I'm not sorry I escaped. _

_So, you know... what I did..._

_Yeah, sorry. Whenever he's particularly emotional, I get visions of it._

_Oh..._

_I don't suppose you'd hex Snape for me?_

Draco chuckled softly.  _ I might consider it. _

_I hope you get some rest._

_You too. Take care of yourself._

_I'll try._

After that, neither wrote anything for a long time.

HJP

Harry made extra sure that both Ron and Hermione were asleep, and then pushed up his sleeve and stared at his blank arm. Once again, a massive amount of confusion filled him. When he'd been dating Ginny, their few stolen hours alone had filled him with a happiness he'd never known. Even relatively recently, when she'd taken him aside on his birthday and kissed him, he'd felt a need to get lost in it.

But the longer they were apart, the more Harry realized that he'd felt happiness because she was a source of comfort. A person – perhaps the only one in the world – that treated him like a normal ordinary person who deserved normal things like a relationship. Even so, he'd long since recognized that he would never be free to actually be with her. All during Bill and Fleur's wedding, he'd had thoughts and visions of Ginny being able to find love and get married to someone else. Whereas he would never have that because anyone and everyone he associated with – let alone dared to love – was going to be in enormous danger. They'd be hunted so they could be used against him.

As he was emotionally coming to a better understanding of his feelings for Ginny – that as much as he felt a sort of love for her, he seemed to really want her as a symbol of everything normal in life he was missing out on – well, the more he grew confused.

See, he'd been forced to deny it for so long that he'd come to believe it. Despite being bonded to Draco Malfoy, he could never admit it. They could never be together. And yet, when he was alone at night, it was not Ginny he thought of. Not Ginny he longed for.

It was Draco. He wanted Draco's arms around him. He wanted the simple and platonic cuddling they'd almost never had a chance to do. More, he wanted Draco inside him making him feel bliss.

He'd tried to tell Draco a couple of times that he thought he might actually love him, but each time, he'd been rejected before he could even finish his sentence. It had hurt and he'd done his best to forget about Draco and move on, but now...

Now he couldn't stop thinking about how Draco was literally in the hands of Voldemort. How he was being used to hurt and torture people. How he probably had no one he could confide in or seek comfort from.

Harry's heart ached! No matter how bad Harry was currently suffering – having to wear a part of Voldemort's soul around his neck wasn't exactly a walk in the park after all – he knew Draco had it every bit as bad. Maybe even worse. All Harry wanted was to hold Draco tight and kiss away all his worries and stress.

His concern had grown so bad that he'd taken to staring at his bare left forearm whenever he could. Hoping...  _ Praying _ that Draco was alright. That he was safe – or at least not too mentally traumatized.

But he didn't dare write because he couldn't guarantee that even at a time when Draco was likely in bed sleeping, he was alone and able to receive a message from Harry without being caught. He could only assume that Draco felt the same, for he never messaged either.

Still...

Harry caressed his forearm tenderly before forcing himself to try to get some sleep. He needed it after all.

DLM

The long months at school were not exactly pleasant. In fact Draco was now thoroughly disgusted with himself. With Voldemort in charge via Snape, he'd made some rather disturbing changes.

For example, instead of learning to defend themselves from Dark Arts, they were being taught to use them. When Draco stepped back to take a detached and objective look, he actually felt that these lessons were useful. Sure, maybe most witches and wizards would never need to know how to perform a Killing Curse, but what if they needed to defend themselves? For example, what if an enemy snuck upon them in the dead of night and tried to strangle them in their sleep? Oh sure, several spells  _ might _ help – if the unlucky witch or wizard managed to grab their wand and cast them. A Blasting spell or even a Stupify might temporarily force the attacker to retreat, but then they'd still be in a massive fight for their lives. 

Wouldn't it be better to have – such as muggles had with their guns – a spell that could defeat an attacker instantly by killing them?

The other Unforgivable Curses were harder to justify learning, but Draco could still think of a few reasonable cases. Perhaps a child was about to run off a cliff because they weren't looking where they were running. A quick Imperio followed by a command to stop might be far more effective than any sort of warning. Even a precisely cast Cruciatus Curse could be welcome, if used by someone trusted on someone who enjoyed pain and wanted it in small doses.

The point was that the Dark Arts weren't necessarily bad all on their own. More importantly, learning to use them had the vital effect of learning how to  _ defend _ against them. After all, if you see someone cast a nonverbal spell and a jet of green light comes flying at you, if you've cast the spell yourself, you'd immediately recognize it as probably the Killing Curse and leap out of the way.

That said, lots of magic produced green light in various shades, so just seeing the color wasn't necessarily an indication of what spell it was, but still, one would be motivated to avoid it.

It was – somewhat ironically – the NON Unforgivable spells that Draco felt had less justification for learning. Honestly, who would ever have a need to cast a spell to make hundreds of tiny non existent drills bore into every bone in a person's body? Or a Curse to turn a person's insides into their outsides. Or make their blood boil.

They were somewhat interesting to learn as theories: “If your enemies are determined to murder you, you could always try to deter them by exploding their eyeballs or peeling their flesh right off their bones.” But Draco was actually sort of glad that the Dark Lord – and thus the Carrows – focused almost exclusively on using the Cruciatus Curse. It meant that as horrible as it was to torture his fellow students with it, he wasn't required to cast spells to boil them in oil or permanently break their legs.

Christmas break was... Well, normally he looked forward to going home for the break. He usually got a lot of fabulous presents – and he still did – and so it was a happy time. Draco actually  _ was _ grateful for an excuse to stop learning how to become a professional torture, but at the same time, he was stuck sitting at the same table as the Dark Lord, trying to be pleasant and useful even as his Lord howled in rage for being thwarted in nearly everything he was trying to do.

Easter Hols were slightly better since the Dark Lord was off doing something, and so, not around to kowtow to. That said, his aunt Bella was heavily pregnant even though she didn't look it. And so, she was rarely in a good mood, and because she was carrying the Dark Lord's child, no one  _ dared _ risk upsetting her. Thus Draco had to pretend to be attentive and loving towards her.

On the one had, she was his aunt and he had a sort of familial fondness and love for her, but on the other, she always had an air about her that suggested that she would betray everyone – even her sister and nephew – if it meant pleasing her Lover. Thus, Draco was currently putting on a rather good show of relaxing while not actually doing so.

Until Harry showed up.

At first, Draco decided that his best bet was to not look at Harry at all and pretend that he had no idea who the boy was. However, his plan was immediately foiled because everyone was eager to have him confirm Harry's identity. Lucky for him, everyone was so focused on Harry's face that they weren't looking at Draco's. Draco felt a moment of concern – which probably showed on his face – over how distressingly abused Harry looked.

It was now Harry who looked rather thin and malnourished. In fact, dye his hair white-blond and give him a few extra inches of height, and he could be Draco from a year ago. Unbearably urged to comfort his Soulmate, Draco had to push away all tenderness and try to remain as emotionless as possible.

Even so, he was half certain that he couldn't quite keep every trace of fear off his face. Currently, it seemed like his worst nightmare was coming true. If they could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was genuinely Harry, he'd be shortly given to the Dark Lord and summarily murdered. The only good in the whole situation was that the Dark Lord wanted it over as quickly as possible, and so, Harry would not be subjected to torture first.

Draco sincerely hoped.

As his father avidly asked him to confirm the truth, Draco scrambled to think of  _ anything _ that could help, even if only temporarily. He also tried to stay as far away from Greyback as possible since he knew full well that his next punishment should he fail at anything at all, was to be given to Greyback. Not to be bitten and turned, but to be used and abused for the Dark Lord's viewing pleasure.

“I can't – I can't be sure,” Draco answered, feeling helpless. It was flimsy, but it was  _ all  _ he could do. If he flat out denied it, it would be obvious later on after Harry's identity was confirmed that he was lying. On the other hand, claiming uncertainty would be understandable given his condition. They all knew one thing more certainly than anything else – should Draco actually confirm Harry's identity and be  _ wrong, _ his punishment would make being raped by Greyback feel like a nice lazy Sunday by comparison.

His father forced him to get closer and take a better look.

“I don't know,” Draco stated, committing himself to delaying the inevitable for as long as possible.

His mother seemed to be on his side. As she had once promised, she would support Draco no matter what. Rather than side with her husband in pressing for a confirmation, she held up a wand.

“We had better be certain, Lucius. Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is his, but it does not resemble Ollivander's description... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov.”

Since no one was currently looking at him, Draco looked over at Harry, who despite probably not being able to see clearly due to the fact that his eyes were almost swollen shut, compulsively looked over at Draco. They both knew what Draco had done to those two at Voldemort's command. Also, it was the last time they had written to each other. Hastily, both looked away.

Then all hell broke loose when Bella entered the room and immediately tried to summon the Dark Lord, only to spot a sword and scream orders that NO ONE could summon him until they knew exactly how and why the sword was there rather than in her vault.

To Draco, she gave this command: “Draco, move this scum outside,” referring to the four Snatchers she had stunned in short order. “If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”

Happy for an excuse to get away if even for only a few minutes, Draco did as he was told, despite his mother's indignant protests on his behalf. Out in the courtyard, he turned the men into small boulders. This would prevent them from escaping before Bella could dispatch them, but also had the advantage of if she forgot about them – which she was likely to do – he could turn them back and release them later.

Unfortunately, this didn't waste near enough time. Draco returned with plenty of time to witness the entire torture of Hermione Granger. He fervently did  _ not _ want to be in her place, as his aunt excelled at causing pain and misery.

When Granger sobbed out something that was likely a lie – that the sword was a copy – Draco was sent to fetch the goblin Griphook. Again grateful for the excuse to leave for a bit, Draco took his time getting to the dungeon. Half of him hoped the prisoners all listened and didn't give him trouble, which would be an excuse for the Dark Lord to punish him. The other half hoped that Harry would jump on the opportunity to lead a small rebellion, overpower him, and escape.

Sure, Draco would be punished most severely, but he'd also have hope that Harry was out there and could eventually do something to defeat the Dark Lord. At this point, there was no illusion any longer that Draco had any sort of future should Voldemort remain in power. At best, he'd be free in name only, so long as he followed the Lord's every command – likely as an enforcer, as he was being groomed to be.

“Stand back,” Draco ordered, trying to sound in control, but suspecting that he was failing at least a little. “Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything or I'll kill you!”

Miraculously, they did as they were told. Perhaps they understood that Draco didn't really have a choice in the matter. Or maybe Harry just didn't want to force his hand at the moment. Either way, Draco was able march into the dungeon and drag Griphook away.

Draco handed him over and stood back as his aunt decided to torture Granger a bit more before starting on the goblin. At this point, Bella was branding her with the term Mudblood so all would know her status at a look. At some point, Granger stopped screaming and passed out.

Meanwhile, Wormtail had been sent to the dungeon to investigate a strange sound, and had called a report up the stairs that nothing was wrong.

The moment Bella was satisfied the sword was a fake and called the Dark Lord, she offered Granger to Greyback. This triggered a somehow miraculously free weasel to spring forth from the door leading down to the dungeon. He then managed to shock everyone in the room by disarming Bella, her wand being caught by Harry, who promptly stunned Lucius.

Draco had to be seen as doing everything he could to stop Harry, even so, he was profoundly grateful that he knew how to cast spells nonverbally. In fact, he was rather good at it by this point. So, while aiming at Harry with what hopefully looked like deadly intent, he simply cast a harmless spell. It was actually a cheering charm, but Harry had other spells to dodge and threw himself to the floor and rolled to the safety of behind the sofa.

“STOP OR SHE DIES” Bella warned quite seriously. After some hesitation and repetition of the order to drop their wands, both Gryffindors reluctantly obeyed. 

Draco was ordered to retrieve the wands, and as he did so, absolutely no one was looking at him, except for perhaps his mother. Holding his wand defensively, he grabbed the one at the weasel's feet first. Then, a bit gingerly, he approached Harry and tried to memorized every tiny detail of his Soulmate, especially since this might very well be the last time he saw him. Alive.

All too soon, he was back at Bella's side. Suddenly, the chandelier came crashing down on them and Draco felt justified in protecting himself rather than try to prevent Harry from escaping. It was sheer chaos with Harry grabbing the three wands (including Draco's) out of his hands, his mother trying to pull him to some semblance of safety, their old house elf Dobby disarming his mother, Harry shouting for his weasel to take Granger and go, and then...

Time seemed to stop as Draco and Harry's eyes met. Draco and his mother were standing there passively, both privately hoping this escape attempt succeeded even if it meant severe punishment for their family. Harry was concerned for the goblin and house elf he was holding onto, even so, as their eyes stared into each other for the briefest moment, they both seemed to be saying the same thing.

_Be safe. Take care of yourself. Don't die._

Unfortunately, neither of them could ever actually say that out loud. And then Harry was gone. Draco stood there, numb and not even caring that he was bleeding from the shards of crystal that had cut him up. Humming very very softly in sympathy, Narcissa rubbed his back while no one was looking. And then...

The Dark Lord arrived and was NOT happy to find that they'd HAD Harry Potter, but that he'd once again escaped. Everyone in the room except for Bellatrix by sheer grace of being pregnant with the Dark Lord's child was subjected to a few moments of sizzling hot torture. The good news, in Draco's opinion, was that Greyback was included in this fierce displeasure, and thus, was not given Draco as had been promised should he need punishing.

Also, perhaps because Draco was the only one literally bleeding, and therefore had proof that he had fought (even though he hadn't really), he was released first. That said, being forced to lay there on the floor as his parents (and Greyback, but who cared about him) were tortured... well, it felt almost a hundred times worse than being tortured himself.

Thankfully, something important occurred to the Dark Lord fairly quickly, and so, he took off and let them all recover. Greyback was allowed to leave, but Bellatrix insisted that Draco take her to the four he'd turned into small boulders so that she could vent her rage and frustration on them. Before he could go to bed that night, Draco was forced to help dig graves for the four of them and Wormtail – as it had turned out that he was dead: possibly murdered by Harry.

Although, Draco found it hard to believe that Harry had it in him to strangle a man to death. He was even skeptical that the  _ weasel _ could have done it. It was very mysterious, but no matter how it had happened, the fact remained that the Malfoys were in trouble and there was one less person eager to do the Dark Lord's bidding in their house.

Draco was torn between being relieved and upset when he alone was allowed to leave the house arrest they'd all been placed under. Even Bella, who hadn't been physically punished, was still in hot water and confined to the Manor. The fact of the matter was that Draco alone had a way in which he could still be useful, and that was going back to school and torturing as many rebellious students as he could. Knowing that his family would suffer if he didn't, he cast aside all of his emotions and really threw himself into the task.

Weeks passed...

When Harry turned up at Hogwarts, Draco had made up his mind. Without breaking his cover and thus the trust of his cohorts, Draco was going to do his utmost to protect Harry and help him do whatever he needed to do to defeat the Dark Lord. Which meant that he quietly ordered Vince and Greg to Disillusion themselves so that the three of them could wait for Harry to show up.

It was a bit of a gamble, but since the Room of Requirement was apparently one of the places that the fighters were using as a home base, chances were good that Harry would come here eventually. And he was right. Harry showed up and it took Draco keeping a firm grip on their arms to keep them waiting until the right moment.

That said, Vince had gotten too big for his britches – in a manner of speaking – and tried to take control and kill the entire Golden Trio. It was all Draco could do to remind him that Harry was not to be killed by ANYONE but their Lord. But it seemed like Vince had gone mad with the prospect of power and rewards, because he kept trying to kill until he cast of an out of control Fiendfyre Curse.

Draco felt betrayed! Just moments before, he'd pulled Vince out of the way of a stunning spell. And yet, Vince ran off and left both him and an unconscious Greg to fend for themselves. He did his best to pull Greg to safety, but there was NO safety!

Screaming in frustration that he'd survived nearly being murdered at Harry's hands – which he would have welcomed – AND an infuriated torture session from the Dark Lord, only to die like this, more or less at the hands of someone he actually considered a friend when he was in the mood to be sentimental.

Suddenly, out of the flames, appeared a tiny glimmer of hope. Harry flew a broom right at him, except they both realized at the same moment that Draco and Greg combined was far too heavy for Harry to lift onto the broom – or even hold onto as he flew to safety. All hope seemed lost.

But then Granger and Weasley astonished him by appearing out of nowhere to grab hold of Greg and fly him to safety while Draco was helped onto Harry's broom. Draco wrapped his arms around his Soulmate and hugged him tight even though Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere. Thinking that their situation REALLY ought to take priority, Draco shouted instructions to get to the door before Harry's wandering mind used up the precious few seconds they needed to escape.

Except that Harry ignored him and flew erratic but precisely to grab something – the Diadem more than likely – before finally zooming out of the room. When they crashed into the wall outside, Draco was still holding Harry tightly, and so, he lay on top of Harry for a brief moment before Harry gently pushed him off.  _ He _ was clearly focused on his mission above all else, but his touch was still tender as he briefly swept a hand along Draco's arm, as if to reassure himself that Draco was still there.

Stunned by the news that Vince had died, Draco lay next to Greg, torn between standing up and officially joining Harry in the fight and staying to protect one of the only friends he had. He listened when Harry stood and the conversation revealed that the Diadem had been a Horcrux destroyed by the Fiendfyre. They were already discussing Vince as if his death was of no consequence to them, except they weren't quite heartless enough to actually wish him dead.

“Harry,” Draco piped up from where he now sat against the wall before he lost the nerve.

Harry squatted and took his hand. “I can't stay. I have to...”

“I know,” Draco murmured. “I want to help, but I'm wandless. What could I do? Plus, who else will look after Greg?”

“You can help by keeping yourself alive, Draco,” Harry insisted.

“I'm tired of keeping secrets and hiding what I really want,” Draco confessed wearily.

Harry smiled at him. “Me too.”

“So if at all possible, bring that evil arsehole down, yeah?” Draco asked and ordered at the same time.

Harry grinned at him. “On it!” They might well have succumbed to the urge to kiss had Ron not made a loud noise of confusion followed by nearby yells and shouts as a duel emerged from down the corridor.

Harry squeezed Draco's hand before taking off at a run to go help out if necessary.

Sounds of battle all around them prompted Draco to drag Greg to safety before anything could happen to them. Unfortunately, Greg was so heavy that Draco didn't have the strength to drag him farther than the closest broom closet. It was small enough that it  _ should _ remain structurally sound, but with Acromantulas suddenly trying to climb into the castle and Draco simply not able to carry his friend any more, he had to shove Greg in the closet, lock it the muggle way, and pray for the best.

Then he decided that his best bet was to use all his lurking and sneaking skills to avoid all attention, especially any sort of battle. Unfortunately, a fully masked Death Eater spotted him and didn't care who he was. Based on his size and shape, Draco suspected that this was Rowle, taking advantage of an opportunity to get back at Draco.

Out of nowhere, Rowle was stunned and Draco was punched off his feet.

“And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard,” Ron cried out hotly.

“Oi! That's my Soulmate you just punched!” Harry protested. “Only  _ I'm  _ allowed to do that!”

“Punch me later, Harry!” Draco urged in bemusement from where he lay, still toppled over Rowle. “Stop wasting time and go!”

“I ordered you to not die and I'm holding you to that!” Harry called over his shoulder as he ran off, to sounds of Ron spluttering in shock and Hermione sounding like she'd just had an epiphany.

“Ohhhhh... I'd  _ wondered _ why you kept staring at your left arm.”

But Harry didn't have time to explain.

After that, Draco took  _ great _ care to avoid everyone as he made his way toward the entrance/exit of the Castle. It took him so long that he ended up deciding to hide in a different broom closet on the second floor. In this closet, he sat thinking. With no way to protect himself from spells – physical fighting, sure, but everyone was hexing to kill – his first thought had been to retreat to the safety of the Dark Lord's command center. To the arms of his parents.

But as he sat here, he realized that he didn't want to do that. If Harry won, he wanted to be a part of it, no matter how small. Even just a bystander. On the other hand, if the Dark Lord won, he could claim that he'd been in the castle trying his best to capture Harry, and Greg would be able to verify that they had indeed stayed behind to do just that. No one would need to know that he had changed his allegiance so completely.

Even so, he far preferred it if Harry won. As he sat there in relative safety, he held his head in his hands and tried his best to come up with clever plans to help Harry as best he could without a wand. When the Dark Lord called a temporary cease to the battle, Draco was so relieved that he slumped over and inadvertently took a nap.

The next thing he knew, a feeling in his arm made him sit up with the certainty that his mark was burning him, only it wasn't. Instead, there was writing.

_I love you forever._

That somehow seemed rather ominous to Draco. In confusion and a rising sense of dread, he pulled his self inking quill out of his pocket and wrote back:  _ I love you too. What are you doing?  _

But there was no answer.

HJP

When Harry was laying face down on the ground after surrendering himself to Voldemort and being hit with the Unforgivable Killing Curse... After going to a sort of limbo and having a shockingly forthcoming conversation with Dumbledore, he cracked his eyes open ever so slightly to see Narcissa bending down over him to see if he was dead.

She pulled open one of his eyelids, then slid her hand inside his shirt to check his heartbeat. Finding a fairly rapid one, she very quietly asked directly in his ear: “Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed in a voice so soft he had to pray she heard him. 

His left arm was bent at an awkward angle and his sleeve had landed in a way that caught her attention. She gently pulled it up and pressed her fingers to his wrist as if checking his pulse. Chances were very good that she'd seen their last messages to each other because she gasped ever so slightly and breathed out: “Oh my darling boy.” She patted Harry on the cheek twice as if trying to be absolutely certain, but really trying to comfort him.

Then she sat up abruptly and faced her watchers. “He's dead!”

DLM

An extremely loud announcement that Harry was dead made Draco gasp from where he was still hiding. Still trying to wrack his brains for anything clever enough or desperate enough to work. He immediately checked his arm, but their last messages remained and Draco had no idea if this was a good sign.

Grabbing his quill once more, he wrote:  _ Harry? He says you're dead! Please talk to me! Tell me it's not true! _

But once again, there was no response from his Soulmate. Overwhelming grief ripped through him, making him gasp and sob and suck in great breaths to try to stop himself from breaking down just yet. He still needed to survive. He needed to get to his parents and do anything he could to make sure  _ they _ survived.

Holding his breath until the stinging in his eyes stopped, Draco wiped them and stood up. He needed to wait to grieve. To push his feelings for Harry aside and hide them – as he had always done – until he could be certain he had the time and privacy to break down. Slipping out of the second floor broom closet, he joined a crowd of people flowing outside to see the body for themselves.

The cries of grief were so deafening that Draco might have been able to join in without notice, but he couldn't risk it. His best bet now was to wait until the right moment presented itself. A moment in which he could rejoin his parents and encourage them to... Maybe they could all escape? Find a different country where they could build a nice nest to hide in, warded to the teeth so they'd never be found.

And then he would do the one last thing he had left to do before he could slip off to be with Harry again. He'd find someone – anyone, it made no difference to him at this point – to have a child with so that he could ensure that centuries if not millennium of Malfoys did not die out with him. He'd try to find a little peace, raise his child with all the love he could not give Harry, and then join him when his child no longer needed him.

But then all hell broke loose and everyone flooded back into the castle and so many reinforcements arrived. Even the house elves were fighting! But Draco noticed that strange things kept happening. Shield spells popped up out of nowhere to protect those fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Draco was suddenly filled with a hope so profound that it felt like it stabbed him in the gut with a sword. He gasped and couldn't catch his breath because of it.

As he was still reeling, not even noticing his parents running around calling his name, he saw his aunt killed and couldn't quite find it in him to feel more than the tiniest twinge of sadness. Voldemort almost certainly didn't love her either, but he seemed enraged by the death of the mother of his infant daughter. He blasted away the three people dueling him – McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn – and turned to murder the woman who'd done it: Molly Weasley.

And then there was Harry! Alive! He circled Voldemort as they had a long and thoroughly unnecessary conversation. Draco could just wring his neck, silently screaming in his head:  _ Bloody well get on with it!!! _

He was staring with nearly murderous intent at Harry until this line came out of his mouth: “The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”

Draco felt his mouth drop open in shock.  _ What??? _

Harry quickly moved on to assure everyone that he'd overpowered Draco weeks ago and was now using Draco's own wand, which somehow made him the true master of the Elder Wand.

Suddenly, the moment arrived, announced by the very first red glow of the sun itself. It landed on both of them, which seemed to be the cue they were waiting for to shout at each other.

“ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ”

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

There was a deafening silence for a long moment as everyone held their breaths to see what had happened. Sheer chaos returned as the whole hall broke into tumultuous cheers. Everyone swarmed Harry trying to hug or at least touch some part of him. Even Draco managed to squeeze in and catch his hand for a moment before slipping away and finally going to his parents, who were standing together in a corner and both looked like they were about to faint from the relief of the Dark Lord dying. When they saw him coming, they let out sobs of even greater relief and held their arms open for him.

He stood there in the safety of his parents arms for a very long time. Everyone else eventually calmed down. They moved the Dark Lord's body off to a room where he would be out of sight and nowhere near the bodies of those slain in this battle. The House tables were returned and people sat themselves wherever they liked. Still Draco and his parents stood there holding each other, not quite sure if they should stay or leave, although leaving might cement in everyone's minds that they were guilty, whereas staying might help people remember that none of them had fought in this battle at all.

All of a sudden, Harry stood up on a bench and took a good look around the Great Hall. When he spotted Draco, he squared his shoulders and jumped off the bench so that he could march over. A hush fell again as people wondered if there was going to be one last bit of fighting after all.

When Harry arrived in front of Draco, Lucius was trying to protect his son with his very body, but Narcissa was smiling softly at Harry, her hand gently tugging Lucius away. Harry stopped short, simply staring at Draco for a long moment. Draco simply stared at Harry in return. So much he wanted to say, but none of the words would form in his utterly bone dry mouth.

Then Harry flung his arms around Draco and Draco gasped out a small sob of longing and relief and sheer need. He pulled Harry into him and held him so tight that Harry almost couldn't breathe. Lucius – and about 99 percent of those in the hall – was goggling at them in shock and astonishment.

Harry pulled back to look Draco in the eye. Draco gulped nervously because it was a seriously look. Almost... deadly...

“Draco Malfoy, you are my true bonded Soulmate and I  _ never _ want to go another day without you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

Draco felt like he was punched in the chest. No! Full body slammed by a wall! All of the emotions that he'd had to lock up and deny for so long came flooding back into him without warning, making him stagger a bit and cry and blubber, chanting the word: “Yes!” Over and over until Harry silenced him with a fiery kiss.

Over their shoulders, each saw a sudden flare of golden red light. Narcissa let out a rich laugh because her husband was once again wide eyed and gobsmacked. She almost sounded like she was purring when she announced: “And now that you have fully decided that your Bond is Romantic rather than Platonic, and accepted it as what you both truly desire, the bond has activated to it's fullest. But as to that, I can't say a word. You'll have to figure it out on your own.”

Lucius searched her eyes for answers and she smiled at him. Smiling very faintly in return, he patted Draco – who was currently resting his head on Harry's shoulder – on the back. “I had no idea, son. Congratulations.”

“WAIT!!!” Harry burst out incredulously. “Just like that?! You don't...  _ object _ ?!?!”

Lucius harrumphed with a hint of amusement. “The Soulmate Bond is  _ sacred _ Potter. I would not wish to mess with that most ancient and mysterious of magics. Nor would I ever wish to deny my son the one person who will make him happy. I may not ever  _ like _ you, but I will not treat you with anything less than a member of my family deserves.”

It was Harry's turn to look gobsmacked! Draco stood up straight again and laughed softly. He felt so light and happy that he lifted Harry off his feet and squeezed him tight as he swayed side to side. This made Harry laugh and resume kissing Draco. Until McGonagall insisted that they take their rather shocking passion someplace private.

Hand in hand, Harry and Draco ran out of the hall to do just that.


End file.
